A Note from me
Hey – if you’re reading this, thank you. Honestly, not in a million years did I ever think I’d write a couple of books, and as someone who’s always been quite private, I certainly never imagined I’d have a website sharing bits of my life!
I hope my experience might encourage others. Many of us ladies and gents of a certain age have plenty of life experience and stories worth telling. I’ve recently retired, but I actually started and finished my first book, 13, while I was still working.
I’ve lived most of my life wrestling with dyslexia, and throughout school that meant endless frustration. I was a bright kid, but labelled as “lazy”. Every report said the same – great at sports, not much good at anything else. My biggest struggle was with numbers; algebra and equations might as well have been rocket science.
One of my lasting memories from maths class was when the teacher filled the chalkboard with a complicated equation – and the answer. Somewhere in the question there was a mistake, but the answer was correct. The clever kids in class were stumped. The teacher looked smug until I raised my hand. Suspiciously, he asked me to stand and give the answer. “Sir,” I said, “you’ve written it on a slant!” And he had, the whole thing was sloping down from left to right. The class erupted with laughter, and the teacher dragged me out by my newly grown adolescence sideburns while whacking me with a massive wooden triangle.
Numbers have never been my thing. Even now, when my bank sends me a six-digit code, I have to write it down or I’ll forget it in thirty seconds. When I write I have a few problems and my spelling and grammar were pretty awful. Thankfully, modern spellcheckers and software have been a godsend throughout my career.
So, no excuses! If you’ve ever wanted to write a book, a story, a poem, just do it. There are so many tools out there now to help you.
What’s Next!
I’m about to begin work on Book 4, another short novel in the same vein as Jack and an Angel Called Trevor. That said, the similarities end there.
Somewhere between the fourth pint and the bold claim that “music was better in our day,” the seed of my next book quietly took root. It wasn’t a grand literary epiphany delivered by candlelight and classical music. No, it arrived in the far more scholarly environment of a Friday night pub table surrounded by old mates, where the storytelling grows taller as the glasses get emptier.
The subject of our debate, which had clearly been researched over many years of similar evenings, was the glorious chaos of growing up in the 1960s and 70s. Those were the days when entertainment required actual effort. If you wanted music, you saved up for records. If you wanted to see your friends, you physically walked outside and knocked on their door like a civilised human being. And if you fancied a girl, well, you had to summon courage rather than simply pressing a heart emoji.
Looking back now, the whole era feels wonderfully ridiculous. The clothes alone deserve their own chapter. Trousers with flares so wide they could double as emergency parachutes. Haircuts that required either a hedge trimmer or a brave mother with kitchen scissors. And the music! From rock to glam to the eventual explosion of punk, which arrived like a rebellious cousin who’d had too much coffee.
Life back then was simpler, though not necessarily easier. We learned patience because things didn’t happen instantly. You waited for things, saved for things, and appreciated them when they finally arrived. Respect was expected, community meant something, and boredom often led to adventures rather than scrolling.
The idea behind this book is simple: preserve the memories before they disappear. It’s a sort of light-hearted time capsule of everyday life from a generation that somehow survived questionable fashion choices and even more questionable haircuts.
If nothing else, today’s youngsters might read it and realise their grandparents were once dangerously cool. Or at least mildly interesting. And for the rest of us, it will be a chance to laugh, nod knowingly, and agree we really did grow up in the best of times.
A Final Word
The whole point of me sharing this is simple: to encourage others to write. If I can do it, honestly, anyone can. My long-time friends and family would all say the same thing I did at the start – “not in a million years” would they have thought I’d end up as an author.
So, if you’ve got a story inside you, tell it. You never know where it might lead.
The scariest moment is always just before you start.
Stephen King
WHERE YOU CAN FIND ME
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SHAUN DRYDEN
North East, United Kingdom