Fried Fiction

The Boy That Played Chequers was inspired by a lucid dream. Almost wet. Earth (that's the name of the chequered boy) reaches nirvana during a game of chequers and disappears from his American homestay to form a religious cult in the Thai jungle. I went wild with it. Joe Dylan from Bangkok Express and Fun City investigates. He finds a community of naked utiopians in the Thai jungle. It's like The Beach on acid. And white whiskey. I wrote the first few chapters and posted an excerpt on the excellent Writers Beat website. Readers at that site kindly nominated it for the writer's choice quartly award. It came second. My second nomination to come, ahem, second.

David Wallace, writer, kindly offered these words.

"Excellent! probably the best piece I've read on the forum, don't hang about posting this get to it man I really think you've got something here. Get it finished, send me a copy and get it submitted."


Hmmm, ego not in check; I decided to, as he suggested, keep writing. The book wrote itself. I was sharp at the time. Off the sauce. Wrote a milllion words in 2010. Most of it published, for better or worse. Mostly worse. Submitted the piece to Silkworm press in Thailand who politely reclined. Thais are very polite about rejection. Cloaks and daggars. Mostly daggars. Never the one to feel the sting of rejection. Much. I sent the first thousand words to Fried Fiction. They accepted the first chapter and paid twenty-five dollars to publish it as a seralization. I'll spend that money on nuts for my squirrel. Not so needy now, am I Mr Acorn tree?

Thanks to David at Fried Fiction for his support. I really believe in this book. You can find the first part of the story by logging onto fried fiction.com.

Cheers.