I recently got sent a rather lovely and completely unexpected gift. It was a book of 8 short stories. The author reached out to me on Facebook and asked if they could send me a copy for no other reason than they thought I would like it.
Two things here: there are some genuinely lovely people out there and writers will give away their art for free simply because they want people to see it. I think it’s important to recognise that the first thing is much more common than we are sometimes led to believe and the second thing is far more common than it should be.
The book is this is not a picture by Howard David Ingham.
During the recent spell of good weather I took it and my dog to the beer garden of my local pub one afternoon. A little while later my wife came and joined us and the first thing she said was, “Is it any good?”
I gave a desultory “Yes.”
It was good. It was bloody good. It was so good, in fact, that I went into a period of self-flagellation over my own abilities as a writer (you can take the boy out of the Catholic church but you can’t etc).
I would like more eyes on these wonderful stories, so I thought I’d tell you all about them. If you like tales of unease and the uncanny then you should seek this out. If you like hauntology, haunted items and haunted histories, then this is not a picture gives you eight entrances into worlds that uncomfortably overlap our own, told with singular imagination and turn of phrase.
I would often mutter “Fuck” to myself while I was reading this collection. Sometimes because I loved what I was reading and sometimes because I thought I’d never be able to write as well as this.
The self-pity party is over now. What I’m left with is the most wonderful gift, for which I am truly grateful and would like to share, and the commitment to try and strive for better in my own writing. Two gifts, then.
You can buy Howard's book here
Some more found cards
I’m still sporadically finding playing cards. Since my last newsletter I’ve found a Jack of Diamonds and a Number 6 Ludo card (or 666 if you want to be dramatic).
What can it possibly all mean?
It may be cold comfort, but I too muttered "fuck" more than a handful of times reading "Death & Desire." Currently scratching out an Amazon review worthy of your wonderful book. Keep the faith, Andrew (and I mean that in the most non-secular way possible).
I love seeing these found cards. I (selfishly) hope you get out of your writing slump soon. The beer garden sounds lovely. :)