FL12Sept - Page 154

Made In England
Keith’s Carp of the Month
An Award for Lane, dependant on result!
believe me. So, when that book hits
the shelves, people like Rob at Bountyhunter, us at Freebird, Angling Publications et al are already seriously out
of pocket, and break even is a fair few
thousand books away. Everybody is
in business to make money, and if that
comes as a surprise to some of you
then I’m amazed you even have the
ability to read this. Rob, like all of us,
will be looking to make a profit as
soon as possible, just to feed the kids
and pay the mortgage, you understand, nothing too extravagant. But to
get to that profit making stage he’ll
probably have to sell at least two
thirds of his books first. And all that
doesn’t go a fraction of the way to
describe how much work it is to write
a book whilst you’re holding down a
job, and trying to lead the normal life
that everyone else is leading. You
know, fishing once or twice a week,
down the pub, having a Ruby; just
your usual things. So please, don’t join
all the other dullards on the bloody
forums and whinge anonymously
about something you really don’t
know anything about. If you want the
book, buy it. If you don’t, then don’t,
it’s quite simple really.
So, that’s my promotional speech
out of he way, now if there’s anybody
left out there, here’s a little taster of
what I’ve been beavering over in the
last few months.
A quick précis first: it follows on
from the Myth, but not just in a
straight line. I’ve kept Stan as the
main character, and the Common as
the main focus, but events will
change markedly. I’ve tried to weave
three or four other characters into the
whole story, whilst keeping Stan as
the linchpin that links them all. The
thing is, like Rob has written in his
introduction, this book reflects me,
and my outlook on life. A lot has happened in the last ten years to change
my point of view, so the book has
reflected that change. At first I
thought that people might not like
that change of direction, even though
carp fishing is still the main focus, but
then I thought, ‘Well, I’m ten years
older, wiser, more battle worn, and so
are the people who enjoyed the
Myth.’ So, hopefully you’ll enjoy it,
and if you don’t I’m sure you’ll be
quick to let everybody know.
Here are a couple of bits.
Smells and sounds. Smiffy’s senses
were being overloaded like never
before. It was like being on Playstati o n, but a hundre d ti me s mo re
The wood was alive with sounds;
squeaks and whistles, creaking trees
and rustling undergrowth and it was
like a whole new world of wonder for
Oh, sure, he’d been to Hampstead
Heath, and Kew Gardens with the
school, and out to the country where
his uncle and aunt lived, but he’d
never been anywhere like this.
Posh held up a hand, commando
style, and Smiffy stopped in his tracks.
‘What is it?’ he whispered. Posh
ushered him forward with a beckoning finger, then put a hand on his
shoulder to stop him. They were by a
large tree; an oak Smiffy presumed,
and about twenty yards away was a


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