Q&A Thursday with Paul Flewitt

Today’s Interview is with Author Paul Flewitt! 

What is the worst thing you’ve written, how did you learn or know it was bad, and what did you learn from it?
Oooh, getting right into the bone of the matter…I like it!

I’ve written some pretty bad poetry in my time. I started out writing poetry as a youngster, so all that stuff would be utter rubbish. More recently, I seem to feel if a piece I’m writing is good or not, and I have a great group of beta readers who help me get things right. I read a lot in my spare time, so pretty much I’m self-taught as far as good or bad and my idea of what is which.
Why did you start writing and when did you decide to go professional?
I’ve been imaginative for about as long as I can remember and my parents taught me to read and write as soon as I was able to speak, so in that respect I guess I’ve always written. My first memory of writing with purpose was a poem I wrote as a youngster called “The Dead School”. I decided to go professional, if that’s what I am, around late 2012/early 2013.
Do you write in more than one genre? Which ones and which do you like the best?
I have only released in the horror genre, but I don’t rule out writing in the fantasy or sci-fi areas. I’m not a guy who ever says never; but I think it’s safe to say I’m never going to do a Jilly Cooper or Barbara Cartland style story. I do think that anything I write will probably be prefixed with the word “dark”.
 I have to admit to enjoying the horror genre. It’s the genre I enjoyed reading best throughout my life, so it’s no surprise that I would enjoy writing in that style. What I also find, though, is a really diverse and supportive community which exists out in the world. Fans of horror tend to be rabid in their following, and they’re such a fun group of people…weird to say, I know…but horror people are some of the funniest people around!
Do you read other author’s books when you’re writing? If so, do you read the same genre or something different?
I don’t not read, or I’d never read a book again. I read whatever I feel like at the time and go through various moods as far as books I read is concerned.
What is the most difficult part of the entire writing process for you? Queries, pitches, editing..etc.
Synopsis and blurb writing; no doubt about it. It’s the devil’s own work.
If you could have the same type of career as any author currently publishing who would it be and why?

That’s a great question… it’d have to be a combination of three different authors if we’re talking real dream sequence stuff. I’d love to have the profundity and the lifestyle of Clive Barker, he seems to have a lot of fun, makes some great movies, writes and paints. He is a complete artist. The other is Stephen King, simply because of his commercial success. Anyone who says they don’t want to make a good living from their writing is a liar. Yes, the art is important to me; but I also have a mortgage to pay and mouths to feed.

Paul Flewitt lives in Sheffield, UK with his partner and their two children. He is a writer of horror and dark fiction with JEA press. 


Paul is the author of “Smoke” a flash fiction which appeared in OzHorrorCon’s Book of Tribes anthology, “Paradise Park” from JEA’s All That Remains anthology and the stand alone novella “Poor Jeffrey” through CHBB’Vamptasy press. He continues to work on further pieces…

Smart url for Amazon book page; http://smarturl.it/PoorJeffrey

Teaser Tuesday with Paul Flewitt

Today’s Teaser Tuesday is with author Paul Flewitt! 

Enjoy & Comment!

Sometimes magic works…

Grief drives people to extreme behaviour, and when Poor Jeffrey Kinsey is killed, his friends go to some extreme lengths to bring him back… But Jeffrey’s death isn’t the only thing going on in town…

Several girls have disappeared, only to be found half eaten by an unidentifiable creature later… it’s enough to drive a town insane. For Tommy, Jade and Chloe the next few weeks will make them or break them… and a story begins…

Poor Jeffrey; he never wanted death to be this way…

EXCERPT:

Poor Jeffrey couldn’t get anything quite right. His father called him stupid, not unkindly but it was an unfair label; Jeffrey was never stupid. Clumsy, yes, stupid, never. He had clumsy hands, and was tall and gangly with overlong arms and feet that were somehow always too big in his sneakers. These peculiarities of anatomy meant he would trip over pretty much anything from the telephone stand in the hall to a pesky rock jutting out of the ground. Pretty much anything that a normal foot would merely guide its owner over without harm or incident, Jeffrey’s clown-like feet would lead him to some minor catastrophe or other. He had often thought his entire body was ungainly. Never had he considered his foot might be homicidal.

He daydreamed a lot, which didn’t help his cause. He could often walk right past his destination because some mathematical problem or fruity teen fantasy had taken hold of his mind and blinded him to the road. It’s what killed him in the end. Walking home one night and not looking where he was going, head lost in the memory of the Ouija he and his friends had played with that night, he slipped in the remains of a raccoon or some such road kill, his feet unerringly leading him to the one obstacle in his path that might bring him to ruin.

He couldn’t blame the weather for what was about to befall him; it was a cloudless summer evening, the sweet smell of pine mingling with freshly turned earth filling his nostrils. He drifted off to one of those other places he often found himself going to in his mind, heedless of the road by his side. He never noticed the two pinprick lights growing in the distance, just walked with his head down, looking but sightless as he made his mechanical way home.  First he felt something slimy underfoot, like rain slicked mud all smooth and without purchase. Then time seemed to slow for him as he saw headlights rushing toward him. Jeffrey saw his arms pin wheeling to stop a fall that was by now inevitable. In his mind he saw many possible outcomes from his predicament, but it was all happening much too quickly to act any more decisively than to swing his arms and hope. Then he was falling too sharply to recover his balance. He fell hard.

It wouldn’t have been fatal, but a truck was passing by at that same instant. The vehicle only struck a passing blow, but it was enough to kill him. But poor Jeffrey, clumsy Jeffrey. He couldn’t even get dying quite right


Paul Flewitt lives in Sheffield, UK with his partner and their two children. He is a writer of horror and dark fiction with JEA press. 

Paul is the author of “Smoke” a flash fiction which appeared in OzHorrorCon’s Book of Tribes anthology, “Paradise Park” from JEA’s All That Remains anthology and the stand alone novella “Poor Jeffrey” through CHBB’Vamptasy press. He continues to work on further pieces…

Smart url for Amazon book page; http://smarturl.it/PoorJeffrey