Something happened to me at the end of last year. Something not good. But that something gifted me one thing I didn’t have before – time.

At first, I wasted it. Mario Kart, bad daytime drinking habits, and a growing sense that I should probably be doing something more productive. Eventually, I shaved, put on proper clothes again, and thought about how best to use the time I’d been given.

Should I write that sci-fi concept album I’ve been promising myself since 2009, when I first heard Time by Electric Light Orchestra? Should I start a business and become an entrepreneur? Try to get a six-pack?

None of those ideas got my heart racing.

Deep down, I knew what I needed to do. I needed to write. To sit down and actually create something.

So that’s what I did.

And now, there’s a new novel that—pending beta feedback—is complete. I’m immensely proud of it. It’s dark, funny, and sad. A piece of art that didn’t exist before, now dragged from my head and onto the page.

That’s what I love about art. There’s always a before and an after. Before Orwell wrote 1984. After it was published. The book came out of his head, and suddenly, it existed in the world. Amazing.

Now, I’m not comparing my work to Orwell’s, but I do think this novel kills.

A friend recently said to me, “Jack, you really back yourself, don’t you?”

I replied, “I can’t expect anyone else to back me if I don’t back myself first.”

I’m always conscious when I say things like that, that I’ll sound like a coked-up Liam Gallagher circa 1997. But also, I’m in my mid-forties now, and I’ve discovered that with age comes an exponential increase in not caring about stuff like that anymore.

But all of this—the new novel, the momentum—wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t revisited Pills and given it a soft re-release in mid-2024. That collection reinvigorated me. Sales climbed. Reviews came in. People were reading it, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I was in the game again.

Proud of my first child.

Art is always self-indulgent. It’s created because something inside the creator demands to be let out. But one of its best byproducts is connection—because let’s be honest, not all of us are great socialisers in real life. Me most definitely included.

So while Pills didn’t need reviews or chart success for me to be proud of it, I won’t lie—seeing it climb the rankings, reading five-star reviews, knowing it was resonating with people… that meant something.

It gave me the confidence to push my work further. To refine my process. To write the best thing I’ve ever written.

And because Pills played such a key role in getting me here, I want as many people as possible to read it.

So, from March 13 (Pacific Time), Pills will be free on Amazon for five days.

Yes, I know. Bezos is a billionaire. The world is on fire. I get it.

But here’s the thing—if you grab it while it’s free, it actually costs them in data. So in a way, you’re making Amazon take a loss.

And if you do pick up a copy, please, please, please consider leaving a review. It only takes a minute, and it makes a huge difference for an independent writer like me.

Unless, of course, you’re the guy who gave me one star because of that dead dog scene, assuming I must be a sadistic animal hater.

If so, I’d like to assure you that my Maltese terrier and my toy poodle are both alive and well. For now.

Here’s the link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0713VBS6L/

And to everyone who has already read it—thank you from the bottom of my black heart.