Simon Ward's Blog

After a busy summer, Time to Click is nearly ready. The Shark Tank have completed their reviews and i’m on final read throughs before sending out to my proof readers.

It feels good to be completing my first series, but it’s also exciting to be looking towards my next projects. My non-fiction project, Why you should teach your kids about gambling is also out for proof reading. I’ve included some people who have struggled with gambling addiction and so far the response has been really pleasing.

My next fiction project will be the Billy Spark Series. If you can find it, the short story that inspired the series is on this site.

I have managed to finish the first draft of "Time to Click" It's the third and final part of the Awakenings Series. I've given myself a couple of days before i get into the tortuous process of editing.
After publishing Click, i will be focusing on completing a couple of nonfiction books. The first is a book on gambling, which is ready for editing. It's not about encouraging it with a series of tips. It's more of method of gaining knowledge on the pitfalls, the risks and how to educate children so they don't fall into gambling without a full understanding. We don't need government controls, we need to educate.
The second nonfiction piece is early in the outlining stage and will be a mix of a self help guide for businesses and autobiographical, reviewing the successes I've experienced as a lean manufacturing consultant/contractor and how I turned the theory into practice to solve manufacturing problems and identify/deliver on-going cost savings with low investment requirements.
After completing those, I will be back onto the fiction route with a series of novellas around the Billy Spark short story which is available to read on my site (Blog post Oct 2020).

Pleased to confirm Awoken in 2046 is now live on Amazon. If you would like to order a signed copy drop me a message on here or on any of my social media platforms, Twitter @s111ssw, or on Intagram on simon_ward_author.

In other updates, I’m close to finishing my first draft of “Time to Click.” Watch out it is a gruesome story of how Ethan lost his manhood and his journey before he met.

I will follow the Click story by finishing a non-fiction book about gambling and kids. Not to be confused with using kids to gamble. lol

Having received some great comments on the life of Billy Spark, I also plan to write a mini series based around the life of Billy.

Would love to hear your thoughts about my writing. Thanks for reading.

After a busy few months, i have an exciting update for you. The follow up to ‘Finding Love in 2045’ is ready. The second novel in the awakenings series is ‘Awoken in 2046’. I went with that title as it more accurately described the developing journey of Mia and the darker forces around her. The working title of Femalatism was a little too spurious.

I’ve made a minor change to Finding Love in 2045. I had some feedback on the start that it was a little slow so I’ve started with Mia’s awkward night with Ben, which you will be able to read for free on the site.

I also have a cover designer now, so the hours working on covers has been passed to Maria Aska who has far more experience with cover designs than I do. Maria has re-designed the Finding Love cover as well as designing the Awoken cover and the final book in the awakening series, ‘Time to Click’.

I am still writing ‘Time to Click’ and with the help of my Shark Tank writing group, I hope to have it ready before Christmas 2021.

Got another short story for you as part of my reedsy training to improve my writing.

Hope you like it.

The life of… Billy Spark
My stomach churned as I plodded home. Completing my final exam should have been a huge relief, but the worry of having not done enough was tearing me up inside. My head was heavy as I stepped in the door. Without a word, I trudged up to my room, closed the door behind me and dropped onto my bed.

I ignored the gentle tap on the door and didn’t look up when it slowly opened.

“You don’t need to worry, Son. You get the grades you need. Chance to relax and enjoy the summer.”

Fatherly words of calm, as always. Dad never seemed to worry about anything.

“If only, I messed up Computer Science, will have to re-take it and probably Physics too.”

I didn’t want to disappoint him, but his positivity just put more pressure on me.

“A seven for Computer Science and a seven for Physics, that’s good enough.” He said with self-assured pride in my ability.

“Dad. There’s no way I’m getting a seven for Computer Science. I’d be happy with a five, but I doubt I’ll even get that.”

He stroked his fingers down his chin. “I think you are ready.”

“I’m not ready for anything,” I mumbled.

“Nonsense. You’re a smart lad and mature enough for the truth. Give me a moment, I’ll get your life book.”

Great, that’s all I need. He’s laid out my life for me already. Hang me now.

“Take a seat, Son. This is a lot to take in.”

My father smiled. Well, that’s a pleasant change. He closed the door and leant casually against it as he held up a tanned leather-bound book with my name on the front. The life of… Billy Spark.

He opened the book and read from the first few pages to read my date of birth, my first words, and when I took my first baby steps.

My Dad hates being interrupted and given the day I’d been having, I simply sat back against my headboard and stared at the ceiling to listen to the re-counting of my life to date. My first day of pre-school, my first kiss in the playground with Lucy. He read out my SATs results, my first day at secondary school and the kid that tipped a drink in my crotch.

I sat bolt upright. “Hey! Who told you about that?”

Father ignored my reaction and continued. “June 5th was a big day. Walking through the park after school and diving into the bushes with Sara Preece.

“Dad! How did you find out about that?” This was getting weird.

He looked up and grinned. “Old news, Son. You won’t forget Lisa Marshall will you.”

My cheeks burned at the mention of Lisa. “Stop! How do you know all of this?”

Father smiled. “All foretold. It’s not a history book.”

“Foretold after the event. Impressive.” I rolled my eyes at him and grabbed my mobile.

“Just warming up. Here are your exam results.” He turned the book around and showed me my grades. Given my usual results, they were not unexpected apart from the Computer Science grade he’d already mentioned.

I grabbed at the book and got a quick glimpse before he jumped on top of me and wrestled it away. I expected the rest of the book to be blank, but it was full of print.

He was mad as he checked over the cover for any damage, “Idiot. This is your life, not some study guide.”

“What else has been written about me?” I protested as he stormed out of the room.

I followed him to his study to see the cabinet door key slip into his pocket. “Dad! What the heck is that book?”

He sat back in his swivel chair. “It was your Mom’s idea. When she knew she wasn’t going to make it. She wanted to know if you’d be okay. We’d gone to the park for a stroll with you in the pram. A fayre had turned up and rather than turning back as I suggested, your mom wanted to stroll through.

“The waltzer music was blaring out, but the smell of candy floss drew us in. I threw a few plastic darts trying to win a cuddly toy for you, but it wasn’t to be. She insisted I tried every game, but I still won nothing. We were about to leave the park when a beautiful brunette took an interest in you. I remember exactly what she said. ‘Billy Spark. Would your parents like to know about how your life will be?’

“I asked how she knew your name, but she didn’t answer. She held out her hand to direct us to her tent. It had a yellow sign with red script, ‘Learn your future and worry no more.’

“We followed her in and crossed her palm. Your Mom’s future was clear, she had three months. She wanted to know you’d be okay. What followed made us both spin. She didn’t say anything, she just murmured over a crystal ball and laid her hand on your forehead. Less than five minutes passed before she unfolded a silk cloth to reveal the leather-bound book with your name on it.

“Her closing words were that the book was for us and we shouldn’t show you. Everything so far has happened exactly as the book.”

He opened his hands wide. “What do you think?”

I took stock for a moment. Was this a blessing or a curse?

“Why have you shown me?” I asked as I glared at him.

He turned away and ran his fingers through his hair. Eventually he turned to face me. “You looked so down. I wanted to re-assure you. Stop you doing something you’d regret.”

“Why? What do I do?”

“Nothing. Stay in tonight though. Please.”

“Why?” I asked. “You’re telling me my life is already set.”

“You’re going to be fine, but tonight was a mistake you regretted.”

My head was ready to explode as I returned to my room and blasted out some indie rock. Did I want to read the book or burn it? I’d given up time with friends to study. I didn’t take the pills given to me at that party. Does anything matter now? The book was full. I have a full life regardless of what I do. How can that be?

I ventured downstairs as Dad was preparing tea. His heart looked heavy knowing he shouldn’t have shown me the book, but I ignored it.

“Will I regret something if I don’t go to the party tonight?”

The torment in his eyes told me he’d opened something he wouldn’t be able to close. “Someone at the party ends up in hospital.”

“Is it me?”

“Just stay home tonight. Please!” He pleaded.

Buddies I’d put on hold to study for the exams which I was going to pass anyway messaged me about the Freedom Party. How could I not go?

We spent the night talking and watching junk TV. He told me about how my Auntie Karen had spent a lot of time looking after me after Mom passed. He told me how it took him two years before he could look after me full time. His only solace was reading about my life and knowing I would be okay. Tonight’s the first time things went wrong for me. He told me about how some drugs had put me in a coma for three months. He told me I’d recover and lead a full happy life but couldn’t stand losing me for so long.

After sharing some beers until the early hours, we called it a night. When I got to my room, I remembered the pills which I’d not taken from the previous party. They were still in my jeans on the floor beside my bed. Inquisitively, I took them out, two white pills. My head spun. My life turns out well after taking these. What will happen if I don’t take them? It could be much worse. I unscrewed the bottle of water on my bedside cabinet and picked up a pill. My mobile rang. I answered it to hear a panicked Jake. “Billy! Don’t take the pills!”

“Does everyone have my book?” I asked.

“What are you on about? What book? Listen! Liam took some pills at the party and passed out. He’s not breathing.”

“He’ll be okay after a few months in a coma.”

“What are you talking about? You haven’t taken the pills, have you?”

“No. I didn’t take them. Not that stupid.”

Jake didn’t comment.

“Jake. Are you still at the party?” He didn’t reply. “Jake!”

“Liam’s dead.” Jake’s spaced out reply.

My body started shaking as a chill ran through me. I reached for my bottle of water but knocked it to the floor. As I grabbed some clothes to cover the spill, my Dad popped his head into my room.

“Why are you on the floor?” Dad said, putting his hand to his head. Despite the beers, his sharp focus returned. “What the heck is that?” He was staring at a pill on my bed.

“I’ve not taken any.” I blurted out.

“Should hope not. Don’t follow the path. Make your own.”

“But the book? It set my path.”

“Did it?” He charged back into the study and opened the cabinet. I was beside him as he opened the book. The pages after the exam results were blank.

He smiled at me. “Your future’s not set. Life’s what you make it.”

I have been working on Book 2, Love changes in 2046 (or Femalatism). My initial target of December is going to be a struggle so the new target date is March.

After some training to improve my writing craft. This week, I took a break to write a short story related to our current covid troubles. It is a future set short story about a virus led lockdown. I hope you like it.

Lockdown Party
Peering out from my bedroom window, I watched the house party over the road. Some forty or so revellers drinking and dancing in the garden. They were ignoring the lockdown restrictions which had confined people to their homes. Without social interaction, it was no wonder they’d gone stir crazy and needed to let off steam. They must have known they’d get caught but didn’t seem to care as music shamelessly boomed. Party like it’s 1999 had become an anthem for those who wanted to ignore the law. The desire to live an active life stronger than concern over the deadly virus.

They didn’t hear four matt black low loaders ease around the corner resting alongside the tall fenced garden. I’d seen some clips on social media before someone had removed them, but seeing them for real drove a chill right through me. I wanted to look away but mobile in hand I couldn’t stop myself from capturing the sight of the virus containment squad, a newly acquired droid police unit.

Filing out the back of the extended vans in perfect unison, ten, twenty and yet more made a wall of dark grey metal bodies along the fence. The platinum coloured leader stood away from them and surveyed his troops before he glanced in my direction. I dropped straight to the floor.

Recording of the containment division was illegal. I immediately deleted my recording. A cold sweat rang through me. The fear of a knock on my door stopped my breath.

The revellers were still in full flow, unaware of their fate as they sang along to another party tune. They were ‘Wild Boys,’ and girls. Uncontrollably drawn, I lifted myself from the floor to peer out again.

Menacing, yet perfectly still, six droids spaced out a few metres from the squad in line with the fence. Waiting patiently for the noose to snare its prey.

The leader approached the front door with a further ten spaced around the house. The music and jollity continued. The leader had a universal key and didn’t need to bash his way in. He let himself in, like a husband arriving home from work. Ten droids followed, wheeling in a large flight case. The music still played.

Men and Women danced without a care. Guys drank from bottles around a makeshift bar, whilst some couples were sharing intimate moments.

The music stopped.

Jeers of, “get the music back on!” were short-lived as silence returned as the lead droid entered the garden.

An eerie silence held. There was no announcement from the platinum figure of authority. No defiant proclamations. No screams. The leader stood firm, his hands of steel on his hips.

One brave, or rather inebriated guy spoke first. “We are sick of this shit. We don’t care about the virus.”

“If it kills us, it kills us. We want to live our lives,” another guy said.

A bottle of beer smashed as it hit the breastplate of the droid. A round of cheers followed with derisory remarks.

Unmoved and silent, the leader waited.

The remarks ceased, and the crowd hushed, awaiting a response.

Clear and true, he boomed, “You are all under arrest for breaking social gathering laws. The containment vans are ready to deliver you to the central holding area.”

“Not bloody likely.” Several more bottles broke on impact against the platinum droid as further shouts of annoyance rang out.

The leader was unmoved and silent.

The front door opened, and two members of the squad led four guys and two girls quietly out. Chained together, they’d accepted their fate as they stepped into the first van. The other eight droids filed into the garden to join the leader, and all hell broke loose.

Four of the bigger guys charged at one and took it down in typical rugger fashion. Their victory was short-lived as two other droids pinned them to the floor. The upended bot regained his ground to collect chains from the flight case. Another couple of guys charged an enforcer, but with a solid swipe it left them stunned on the ground.

Women screamed and huddled together as other revellers scrambled over the fence. Each assailant grabbed as they landed. One guy evaded capture and took flight, but a Taser jolt turned him into a twitching wreck on the tarmac. The remaining alcohol fuelled confident few tried to push past the leader to regain access to the house. He stood firm, calmly pushing each to the floor and delivering a quieter message.

One wiry, shaggy-haired character hid in the refuse bin at the bottom of the garden and three girls crouched behind the shed. I couldn’t help but smile at the guys around the bar. They were unaffected by the madness around them and continued swigging their beer. One guy grabbed another bottle and chinked it into the others before opening it. It was like they were wearing invisibility coats and were mere voyeurs of the scene.

The perimeter squad split as they bundled away the would-be assailants. A wider line now surrounded the house. The platinum droid moved back into the house and appeared at the doorway. He stepped outside and held out a guiding hand, pointing to the vans. The revellers left the house, some still singing and holding beers defiantly aloft. The squad ignored their chants as they filed into the vans. A blond in heels attempted to flee, but a sprightly enforcer easily apprehended her. The knee she shoved into its groin had no effect other than on herself. She hobbled, assisted to her fate.

Two vans pulled away, and the garden became empty. They led away the petrified girls from behind the shed. A single droid did a last check over the garden. One guy remained still in the bin, I found myself rooting for him. The remaining droid stood patiently in the garden as the third van and most of the unit left. Silence had returned.

I fixed my eyes on the bin and the remaining droid in the garden. I willed the guy to remain still. My eyes tired as time passed. The leader re-entered the garden and relieved the guard to join the rest of the crew in the final van.

The platinum leader strolled to the rear of the garden and planted himself in front of the refuse bin. Ten minutes later he hadn’t moved. The wiry guy held firm. It knew he was there. Why didn’t he open the lid? Why would a droid enjoy teasing its prey?

He must have received a message. He walked back through the house and into the street. My focus again returned to the garden as the lid moved. I wanted to scream out for him to hold steady for another five minutes, but a firm knock on my front door took my attention.

Every ounce of blood drained right out of me. I looked to see the platinum figure of strength knock again at my door. I was innocent. Why was he knocking on my door? I wanted to ask him, but my last glance saw the lid open and the shaggy-haired guy emerge. I looked down again to my front door and my eyes met the glare of the piercing blue eyes staring back at me.

He’d seen me again. I wanted to run but knew my chances of escape were slim. Attempting to flee would also be a clear sign of guilt. I began to descend the last flight of stairs which led to my door. It shook as another firm knock connected. I took two more anxious steps and another impatient knock rattled both me and the door. My nerves couldn’t take another knock, I blurted, “Coming.”

My body was cold and beaten with fear as I released the catch to open the door. He towered above me, much taller up close. I waited for his judgement, unable to breathe or speak myself. He studied me for what seemed like hours but must have been barely a minute.

He spoke with a clear yet soft tone, “I noticed you watching from the window. Has the person in the bin moved?”

“I-I- think he just m-moved when I c-came downstairs.” I had not stammered since school, but this would make my headmaster of stone turn to jelly.

He briefly touched his temple, and I heard figures drop from the van. He returned his gaze to me. “You are under arrest for recording the containment unit.”

“I didn’t record it. I deleted it.”

He paused, then spoke politely, “you cannot delete something you did not record.”

“I started to record it, then deleted it.”

“You therefore admit to recording the containment unit.”

“Yes. Sorry.” I bowed my head in surrender before a spark ignited my voice. My head rose hopefully as I pleaded, “I told you about the bin guy.”

“You did.” He replied. He glanced behind to see the wiry guy being led to the van. The guy’s narrowing eyes met mine as he spat on the floor. The leader returned his focus on me, “Where is your mobile?”

It was in my pocket; I tried to pull it out quickly, but the harder I tried the clumsier I became, it slipped from my grasp onto the floor. “Sorry.” I bent down and presented it to the droid.

His hand clenched and crushed the phone effortlessly in his hand. With controlled aggression he sounded out each word, “The law is not for breaking!”

He left me frozen to the spot as he turned and left. I would never break the law again.

It has been a busy month. The Shark Tank writing group, where I have been giving and receiving feedback with other writers kind of imploded with members unable to commit due to outside issues.

I have found the group a great benefit. I feel i have improved massively from their comments and reviewing their writing has helped me too. Finding issues with other peoples writing helps you spot it in your own (I hope.)

The group was too good to die, so without a strong leader I took charge of the group and recruited some new members. Such was the response i have hastily closed off any further additions. The new members are more experienced in most cases so the level of the reviewing may step up. I haven’t reviewed any in the new round yet, so will have to wait and see.