Mutterings and utterings of a budding novelist

Anything but dreadful!

Welcome to the personal blog of Kenny Dreadful, aka Ken Dawson. A lover of books, illustration, graphic design, personal development, law of attraction and anything that makes this world a better place! Thanks for visiting :)

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Loving my Job!

Behind me, displayed proudly on a shelf amongst other books I’ve contributed to over the years, is my own novel – Spirit’s Destiny. The first of the Tapestry of Fates saga which I’m currently in the process of rediting.
Looking at it now, the artwork is a little ropey (by my own current standards) and the tale itself could do with a full re-edit. But despite it’s flaws, nothing can describe the feeling of finally getting a copy of it in my hands. As if years of blood, sweat and tears had condensed itself into a couple of hundred pages wrapped in a neat little paperback before me. It’s a truly uplifting feeling of accomplishment.

So now whenver I speak to a new author, in the process of talking through and creating their cover, and I can hear the excitedness of becoming published in their voice, it throws me back to my own feelings of getting a book on the market. The amount of times I get an email or voicemail saying “It’s feeling so real now I’m seeing the cover,” is staggering, and never fails to make my day and know I’m in the right job. I feel proud and satisfied that I can help someone pursue their dreams.

And this doesn’t just go for the Creative Covers, but for Phoenix Designs too. Whether it be a logo, branding design, or even business cards, I love listening to people talking about their new business or venture, and again giving them something visual to own and proudly display is an incredible feeling – a feeling I always wish to capture in my own goals.

With my new venture ‘Twilight Dew’ on the horizon, along with the books I’m pushing through, I hope to soon recapture that contentment I felt all those years ago with Spirit’s Destiny.

We should all strive towards our goals no matter what. Sometimes just a spark is needed, an initial push to get going. Success is always just around the corner 🙂 x

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One more sister of Vyse – Aurora

Now I’m finally dusting down Tapestry of Fates to be rereleased, once again I’m daydreaming of plots and plotholes. One hole in particular demanded a final sister of Vyse to be a sworn enemy of Vixen.
So here we have Aurora. 🙂 I must admit, I partly just wanted to draw another droid 😀Auora Final

Decisions – Ours and Theirs

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A couple of years ago, I was driving and weaving my way through the nearby city of Preston with my dad, and causually asked him why he didn’t move us here as a family.
Many years previous, just after I’d turned eleven, my father got a job at British Aerospace in Warton, with Preston being the closest city. Somehow it made sense to move us to another city and let me and my sister grow up there.
He told me that after looking around the surrounding towns and villages, he’d taken to Lytham St. Annes –  a small coastal town past Warton, much quieter than the hustle and bustle of my home city of Leeds.

It was a decision of my father’s that had a huge effect on my life. and was one I remember looking on with great excitement, despite leaving all my friends and extended family behind. Had he decided on Preston, or any other town then indeed my life would have been much different. I would have never met my friends I’d grown so close to, never worked at my second home the pub that dominated my life for so long, or maybe never have took the direction of art and design as a career. I can honestly say I’m grateful my dad took us to the small coastal resort. So big of an effect it has had on my life, that even some family members back in Leeds are contemplating making the move here from across the country.

And this is what happens with each and every of us. Not only are we living our lives through the decisions we make (hopefully making sensible correct ones), but we’re also buffeted around by the constant actions of others, floating around an ocean of consequences. Some decisions enrich us, enabling bright, smooth sailing, some cause minor ripples, giving us small stresses and worries, whilst others can cause giant tsunamis, threatening to overturn and sink our entire existance.

Each day a myriad of decisions blow around us and at times it can feel like we’re at their chaotic mercy. If we’re not careful we can lose control and be buffeted around helplessly. But a ship can only be sunk if the water is allowed inside. And it’s in these difficult times that we must remember that ultimately it’s us as a person that decides how we react to such events.

If someone decides to fire you from your job one day, how do you react?
If someone breaks your heart, how do you react?
If someone does you wrong, how do you react?
If someone attacks you, how do you react?
If someone lies to you, how do you react?
If someone steals from you, how do you react?
And so on…

Without controlling our emotions, and flying off the handle, it’s easy to be swept up in toxic negativity. And more times than not, this itself will lead to even more disaster.
This is evident in the movie American History X, we see this when the imprisoned, and humiliated anger, hate-filled neo nazi Derek is confronted with a line from his former teacher – Has anything youve done made your life better?” It’s the truth Derek needed to hear to finally let go of all the rage that has dominated his life.
If we calm ourselves, think deeply about how we are to react, and come from a place of control, then not only do we calm the waters around us more rapidly, but we display a strength of character that steers our lives to a brighter outcome.
Obviously this can be hard, as we are all only human, but if we are consciously aware that we do have control, then we find the calmness comes much quicker. Fighting a storm with a storm does not improve anybody’s life. Better to silence the maelstrom, and deal with issues effectively.

The Chimp Paradox by Steve Peters is an incredible book that delves way further into this.

So how to we retain control?
We’re all different, and clearly some things that work for some people won’t work for others. For me meditation helped a lot during my turbulant years after my redundancy. It helped calmed the angry voices chattering in my mind and allowed me to look at things clearly, and with a positive attitude. Also without the chatter, fresh ideas would surface and come to me, giving me clarity and affirming that things were always meant to be this way.

So if tomorrow you wake up and are hit with a big bombshell as a result of someone else’s life decisions, just take a deep breath, count to ten, punch a pillow if you have to, remain focused, and deal calmly with the issue.

As James Allen once said –
“The more tranquil a man becomes, the greater is his success, his influence, his power for good. Calmness of mind is one of the beautiful jewels of wisdom.”

One Day

I will never say ‘One Day’ again.
With each morning it becomes closer to my grasp,
Yet tomorrow pushes it one step further away.
An endless cycle, until it becomes the final day.
When my grasp falters and the journey stops.
Today is the day I realised that ‘One Day’ will never come.
Today is the day I think and begin anew.
Today is the day I forget past aches and stop them intervening my current thoughts and feelings.
Today is the day I stop worrying about the future and have faith it will all be taken care of.
Today is the day I focus on the present and live in the moment.
Today is the day I count each moment alive a blessing.
Today is the day I say no to negativity in its many forms, making sure they have no effect on my being.
Today is the day I find beauty and harmony in the world around me.
Today is the day I give thanks to every lesson life has taught me.
Today is the day I move towards making my own dreams and desires a reality.
Today is the day I make that trip I always promised myself.
Today is the day I visit that friend I said I would.
Today is the day I tell that special person how much I love them.
Today is the day I tell my children how precious they are to me.
Today is the day I build bridges with that family member that broke long ago.
Today is the day I take better care of my health and start eating well.
Today is the day I give gratitude to my own health.
Today is the day I stop fussing over my appearance and start loving myself.
Today is the day I look after my own mental well-being.
Today is the day I wish happiness and love to everyone I meet.
Today is the day I break free from whatever shackles hold me back.
Today is the day I realise I have the power and strength to make my life the best it can be.
Today is the day I believe in myself.
Today is the day I know I will never give up.

Today is the day I stop saying ‘One Day.’

One Day will never come.

Today is the day I am happy.
Today is the beginning.
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The things you think of when you’re driving across the country at 3am. 😀

 

Memories

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So tonight after finally dragging myself away from my work, I found myself propping up the bar of one of my local pubs, regaling my pal Craig of all the incendents and amusing events of this particular watering hole. Drunken mishaps, large scale parties, fancy dress nights, charity events, and even (now comical) brawls. I say all of this because I had once worked at this pub, and the nightclub it rested upon for over eight years on and off.
In recent years St Annes had seen a sorrowful decline in its nightlife, with bars, restaurants, and nightclubs sadly shutting up one after another. Gone was the absolutely rammed establishment I stepped foot into on my first shift almost twenty years ago; now replaced by either a few hardcore lifers, restaurant workers who had just finished their shift, or temporary party goers – having a swift drink before venturing onwards to either Blackpool or Lytham.

My good friend, and practically brother Danny would always say ‘Make memories’, and those words indeed rang out loud in my head tonight loud and clear. Suddenly it dawned on me that I owed most of my life to this establishment. 90% of my current friends, relationships I’d had, and even relationships of my friends, had originated from me starting at that pub. I feel my mother getting me that job in 2000 was the most pivotel event in my life. How very different my life may have been without having ever worked there. And yet now it was sad to see that place so empty.
As we grow older do we reminisce more and more until our cherished memories either fade progressively, until we have distorted them beyond recognition? Or held them so dearly the time inevitably comes when we have nobody left to remember them with?

Do we attempt to replicate those memories, hopeful that the good times will never end? Or do we grow, and develop new sets of recollections? I guess this all depends on whether such memories are good or bad. Embrace or destroy them?
We can always keep photos, and indeed these helped me colour the tales I spoke of tonight (I need to remind myself to print more of these out!). Even things like Facebook bring up our comings and goings year upon year.

Reading the ‘Seth Speaks’ books, I’m forever hopeful that when we die, we can select a memory at will, as if a DVD from the shelf, and replay it exactly as it happened. Could you lose yourself though, forever looping through happy times?

Perhaps this a little too deep for the early hours of Saturday morning as I sip at my black coffee. Or maybe it’s a stark reminder that nothing lasts forever.

As meloncholy this post has become, I’m determined to end it on a positive note.
The fact we can make great memories, or even remember amazing ones, is truly a gift. We should treasure this fact, because why we may not know our true purpose on this Earth, we can at least have a great time along the way.
And if you ever find yourself in an empty bar, sadly remembering the great times you had there, find gratitude in the fact that they indeed happened.
Life is meant to be lived, and if you have great memories, rest assured you’re doing just that.

Much love.
Always xx

‘Oh my dear girl,’ she grinned. ‘There’ll be no trying about it. Your journey ends here. Time to die.’

Fallen Tears Chapter Header Chapter 12

Slowly but surely getting there! Deep into Hell now.
I’ll be making a map for this soon, but because it’s based off 17th/18th century Hungary, Romania and Transylvania, a lot of research will be required.

Chapter 12 can be downloaded here.

DISCLAIMER: As always this tale is a first draft. It’s unchecked, unedited, and is pretty much as raw as I can type. Hence why it’s free. So no pointing out mistakes please! Cheers!

Urban Legends and The White & Black Scarecrows

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Going to my sister’s and spending time with my amazing nephew and nieces who are aged five and four – it’s incredible what imaginations a child possesses. Enthusiastically telling me all manner of tales try to fathom where they got these stories from.

But it’s something we all remember growing up. Playing make-believe and acting out a veritable range of characters, from warriors to pirates, wizards to nurses and doctors. It’s easy to see how imagination can lead to some stories taking on lives of their own, and as young kids get older these tales can develop into legends and myths; some becoming quite sinister in nature.

Pretty much every town and city has its urban legends. Usually involving some shadowy figure that lurks on the outskirts, that nobody has seen, but everybody knows a friend of a friend who has.

This is where an urban legend of my old school comes in.
Growing up on the outer edges of Leeds, my middle school was a pretty small one, yet it backed on to an area of land known locally as The Valley. The land itself, approximately a few miles squared had playing fields, hills, a train track running through it, and a small lake. The land was surrounded by housing estates as well as an old hospital. As young pupils, we were only allowed to venture on either during PE, cross country running, or a close part of it during breaks and lunchtime.
No offence to anyone from the area, but the Valley did seem to attract some undesirables. I remember joyriders trying to run us all down on our Sports Day – the teachers pushing us all back before the kids in the car crashed into a tree. Back then, this didn’t seem that out of the ordinary. It already had an eerie feel to it growing up, and indeed a girl in the year above me (I was 9 or 10 at this point) was found raped and murdered at the far end of the Valley not long before we moved to St. Annes.

That tragic event was after this urban legend took place. Like I said, my school was a small one, and in each year of only two classes I had either my sister or a close cousin in it. My sister would tell me of The Black Scarecrow and White Scarecrow who had lurked around the Valley, chasing children and adults they came across. Apparently one dressed all in white with a black cross on him, and the other wore all black with a white cross on him (although my sister doesn’t recall the crosses part). Now whilst sounding like some distant members of a certain white supremacist group, this tale actually scared little 9 year old me when I went on those fields.
Not only content with terrorising people passing through the Valley, but one apparently hung himself from a tree in front of some children, whilst the other doused himself in petrol and set himself alight on the same area of land. A white cross was carved and painted into the tree where one of the Scarecrows swung dead.
To this day I can recall that tree, and I’m 90% sure it exists. My sister agrees too.

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My old school. The Valley is on the right.

Today I asked my cousins and sister about the myth and what they recalled of it.
Now speaking to them years later, it appears the source might have been revealed.
My eldest cousin Wayne says back when he was a pupil at the school he and three friends were allowed to do what they wanted one afternoon and they asked to do cross country. They were told they could go, but only if they went in a group. Whilst coming down part of the Valley known as the Black Hill, a scruffy man came from the bushes brandishing what they thought was a shotgun. All four ran away but one girl fell and twisted her ankle, forcing the others to carry her as the man pursued. Reaching the school, they went straight to the headmaster who quickly gathered a few other teachers and went searching the Valley. Wayne recalls the headmaster’s face dropping when they told him and how he reacted so fast that it felt like they were in real danger.

Soon word of the incident spread, and rumours of a man from one of the estates who hated children circulated. Another rumour was that he lived under the old hospital. Eventually other kids claimed they had saw the man, some even being attacked, and he was now being described as a scarecrow – possibly due to a recent showing of Children of the Corn.
More rumours of attacks ensured but nothing was ever proved.

Looking back, I can’t pinpoint when I was originally told the stories, but I do remember looking out on to the Valley from the school during one stormy day and feeling very creeped out.
It’s bizarre how some memories stick with you.
I guess I’ll never find out just how much of the tale is real, or if the only incident was my cousin running away from the scruffy man.

Regardless of this, I’ll continue to listen to the enthusiastic story telling of my nephew and nieces. I only hope their tales are a little less gory and sinister.
On saying this, my niece Darcie revels in the fact her name means ‘Dark’ so maybe I’ll have some dark tellings to pen from them one day.

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The only picture I have of the Valley itself. My happy sister Kelly, cousins Lee and Wayne, and me stood up! 😀