Friday, 17 May 2013

Ten reasons to read Tomorrow’s Anecdote

1 – It doesn’t fit into any category. Mystery? Yes. Thriller? Yes. Family saga? Yes. With a twist! Actually, read it and tell me what genre it is. I haven’t a clue.

2 – It’s set mainly in the 1980s – which is now officially retro, and therefore cool. And don’t worry. It’s not about Dallas and ghetto-blasters. This is anchored in the ‘real’ 1980s. Remember the Great Storm of October 1987? Thatcher in power? The Black Monday market crash? Oh, yes. It’s all there.

3 – It’s so British it hurts. Wince at the awful stuff on telly. Snigger at Michael Fish’s hair. Sigh at the memory of the wonderful anthems of the era (and Kylie doesn’t get a look-in). It’ll take you back …

4 – Enjoy the company of unlikely male and female leads. They’re imperfect, unpredictable, messy – and, I hope – irresistible. And if you know of an actor who’s a cross between Colin Firth and Martin Freeman, I vote for them to play the part when the movie comes out.

5 – It’s not set in London. Hurrah. It’s based on Bath, although I haven’t called it that to protect the guilty. And every pub, every street corner, every bus stop is authentic. Trust me. I was there.

6 – Tomorrow’s Anecdote is published by Crooked Cat, an awesome independent publisher that looks after its writers.

7 –  It has a cool cover, designed by the talented Laurence, of said awesome independent publisher.

8 – Tomorrow’s Anecdote is semi-autobiographical, stress on the semi, so for once, you’re getting a realistic depiction of a newsroom where people actually work long hours, get stressed, lose their rag and stomp about, swearing.

9 – It’s a great bargain at £1.99 for the ebook, available at Crooked Cat. If you prefer a paperback, you can do that too on Amazon.

10 – It might even make you laugh.

If you’re not convinced, enjoy a short extract:

Chapter 1
No-one could have seen the line of trees falling like dominoes as they toppled towards the A36 under cover of darkness that Thursday evening. One minute, I was driving back in a rental car from Brighton to the West Country, my shoulders aching with keeping it on the road as a crosswind buffeted. The next, I was slowing down to tackle a tricky bend when a giant tree trunk landed on the bonnet with an almighty thump.

As the car juddered to a standstill, I rammed on the brakes out of instinct. The seatbelt cut into my neck as I lurched forwards, then back, just like a test mannequin. For a moment, I sat there, pulse palpitating, still gripping the wheel. Then I counted to ten, opened my eyes and found myself staring out at a confused mass of branches and yellowing leaves. They glowed oddly in the light of my remaining headlamp. It was like being upside-down in a tree house, but much less fun.

If I’d arrived at that spot a split second later, the tree would have landed plum on the roof. And me.

My chest hurt. I realised the steering wheel was crushing my sternum. The crash had shunted my seat forward. Hands shaking, I fumbled for the belt release, and pinged it loose. Wincing, I bent down and yanked at the floor-level bar, shoving backwards with the balls of my feet. Nothing. Grunting with the effort, I tried again to no avail. The sliding mechanism must have jammed in the crash.

At that point, the electrics gave up and everything went pitch black. My forehead ached. I must have hit my head against the steering wheel. Darkness seeped into my mind and I slumped in my seat, semi-conscious. My brain seemed to float away from my body and I began to relive the past three days I had spent in a ghastly Portakabin where I had endured the vilest form of professional torture … that most feared phenomenon of all, The Management Course.

By Pamela Kelt 

Tomorrow's Anecdote (ebook) is available from Crooked Cat. Find the Kindle and paperback versions on Amazon.

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