Free Stuff to Read – a New Bartender Episode…

Yup, I’ve got a new episode of “Confessions of an Unintentional Bartender” for you to read.

You’ve never heard of the Bartender? *sighs* Well I suppose I ought to point you in the right direction to discover her…

She’s a gentle soul who really just wants to be left to her own devices. However wherever she goes, she always gets cornered by someone who needs to talk. Sometimes she can help them, sometimes she just listens.

The Bartender utilises my blog to clear her mind of the more troubling cases that she comes across. These are the ones that she can’t stop thinking about and that make her feel like she should do something.
She has done something though; by listening nonjudgmentally to those who talk to her, she has allowed those people to unburden their minds and free themselves of the poison that bad feelings can create.

It was Mental Health Awareness Week last week and I felt that the Bartender’s stories fitted the theme rather well ; hence why I’ve blogged about the latest one.

Having suffered from various forms of Depression myself, I know how hard it can be to unburden yourself to a friend. It’s an awful lot easier to talk to a stranger, yet there aren’t enough therapists available on the NHS.
I’m not going to get political (I’ve sworn off politics at the moment – it’s too sickening) but without a friendly non judgemental ear to listen to us, those with Depression and other Mental Health Problems can get quite ill without being noticed.

So I hope the NHS gets the money it needs to deal with the problem.

And the Autumnal Lurgy hits…

Fresher’s Flu, First Cold of The Year, Autumnal Lurgy… whatever you call it, I have it, my family has it, a lot of my friends (RL and FB) have it.

I should imagine this time of year has the cold & flu tablet manufacturers rubbing their hands with glee, as they think about all the money rolling in as the supermarkets and chemists put their orders in to cope with the flood of people  scooping packets of tablets into their baskets…

The Cold Virus… probably not really this cute, but definitely around!

Sometimes I think that the reason drug manufacturers don’t bother trying to cure the Common Cold (or any illness) is pure greed; remove the demand, lose the cash.

But then I think that it’s not the scientists that feel like that; many scientists are working really hard to cure Cancer, AIDS, even the Common Cold and don’t have anything to do with the manufacturing and sales side. Maybe they’ve come up with cures already and it really is the Greed of the Pharma Managers stopping us from having an illness free society.

Elysium Medical Machine

Is this machine really all that far away? Only those in charge of Big Pharma really know that.

I apologise…

When you’re feeling ill, your mind seems to take a dive into the depressive trough and your body follows it, making it difficult to get better.

She sighs, coughs, splutters and flakes against the back of her chair.

I think maybe I should go rest up a bit more… I’ll return to the world of words when I am feeling a bit less lurgal and a bit happier!

Branching out…

I’m sat here, having given PW her lunch, attempting to finish a WIP. It’s been a WIP since January 2011 and has been through several versions as a WIP, had a few people critique it and a couple of edits done… and I’m still trying to give it a satisfactory ending.

I’ve decided to do a series of Science Fiction Fantasy Novellas. I’m going to make the WIP I’m working on, part of it – this is an idea for the cover; I can’t use it for the actual cover because the artist who put the software together is also a writer who is publishing his own work using these covers, so it’s a copyrighted thing – I can’t use these covers to make any money.


Hopefully I’ll be able to find an artist who can use this as an inspiration for the covers for my books – the novellas are going to be part of a series called “Tales of Total Terrificness”

(Yes, I know, it’s awful, but I’m ill, I can’t come up with anything better at the moment)

I already have a story to publish in the series – I need to revamp it a bit, get an appropriate cover made – here’s the Pulp-o-Mizer one so you get an idea of what the series is going to be like…

Of course, these will all be published as A. E. Churchyard and I have several other stories in mind for the series. They’re all going to be stand-alone stories at the moment; in the future I may use the main character again in another story or one of the other characters involved, but otherwise there won’t be any links between the actual stories, other than they all take place in the same universe.

So just to keep you wondering, here’s an extract from the WIP for your delectation:

Broad grins greeted the two young officers as they entered the Scout ship after their briefing. Warrant Officer Hela turned on the marines in the main compartment, as Shannar and Fynn strapped themselves into the commanders positions behind the Pilots.

“All right you lot! We are on a Recon Mission! That means you follow orders and you follow orders exactly. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Warrant Officer!” the marines barked.

“If you question any part of the Orders you are given, you will regret it!” Hela’s face was a grim mask.

“Yes, Warrant Officer!” the grins disappeared fast.

Satisfied that the message had been received, Hela strapped herself in. She cued Shannar with the merest glance.

“Helmets on.” He ordered, suiting order to action.

The marines put their helmets on, snapping the seals closed. Shannar activated his cuff comp and suit com, signalling the Captain.

“Mr. Shannar, is everything ready?” the captain said over the com.

“Aye, Captain.” Shannar replied.

“You have command, Midshipman. Good Luck and Safe Return.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Shannar looked over at Fynn. She grinned and made the keep going sign.

The drop ship pilot looked back at him.

“Ready when you are, Pilot Han.” Shannar gave him the traditional thumbs up.

Three hours later, Shannar wasn’t sure if he really was ready. The trip down had been more turbulent than he’d imagined it, having almost lost his breakfast twice. Now they were crouched below a ridge line a mile away from where the ship had landed, looking out over the murkiest terrain he’d ever seen. The air was thick and warm with a smell like cabbage and dirty socks that not even the breathing filters could remove.

“Nowhere near as bad as Vega 9. That’s mangrove swamp for miles, you can’t even see the enemy coming.” Hargreave, one of the oldest marines said over the patrol channel.

“True, at least you can see them coming.” Jacks replied cockily. Jacks was the youngest of the ten marines in the patrol and the most curious.

“The comp says that the air has too much Methane and CO2 to be safe for long.” Fynn commented on the Command channel, in her role as Second Officer, “We’d best stay on the re-breathers for this one.”

“Good call, Mr. Fynn. Hela make sure that the men understand that please.” Shannar glanced at the Warrant Officer to his left.

Hela saluted “Aye, Sir.” She crawled backward to talk to the men without being seen.

Shannar returned his attention to the swampland below. In the mist he could just see the cubic shapes of the Bluen, sliding through the muck “Where did they come from?” he muttered

“What do you mean by that?” Fynn asked, still on the command channel.

“The Briefing Officer said that this planet was colonised in the first wave out. So where did the Bluen come from and where did the Humans that colonised here go?”

“We’ll find out shortly, I should imagine. A new report from the Bridge says there are structures present to the west, along the ridge line.” Fynn pointed.

Shannar switched to the patrol channel, “Warrant Officer Hela. There are structures to the west, we need to check them out. We’re moving out..”

“Aye, Sir. All right you lot, on your feet; lets get sorted!” Hela bellowed over the patrol channel.

Shannar winced and swapped back to the command channel. ”Come on Mr. Fynn. Keep an eye out for Bluen.”

“Aye, Sir.” Fynn motioned to Hargreave and Jacks, who took up the point and tail positions.

Hela cursed and directed the remaining marines to their positions around the officers.