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