Book of the Week

stephen king, cell

Stephen King’s, Cell

After finishing one of the best books i have ever read, i thought that i would start a new feature, Book of the Week.

Having never read or watched anything ever written by the legend that is Stephen King, i thought i knew what his novels would be like. Im not a fan of horror as i suffered from night terrors as a child. Nothing could have prepared me for his Epic Thrillers. The writing style, the ease at which he narrates his story, transports you to his world at the blink of an eye.

I am by no means qualified to critique a legend such as King which is lucky because i do not have a bad word to say about it.

The blurb on the back cover reads…

” The event which properly civilisation into its second dark age is known as The Pulse. The virus is carried by every cellular phone operating in the world. Within hours, those receiving calls will be infected.

Clayton Riddle, a young artist, knows he has to reach his son before the young boy switches on his phone. And time is running out…”

The story begins with Clayton Riddle who has just finally succeeded in selling his graphic novel to a publishing house. He buys his estranged wife a present to celebrate and to try and start them off down the right path again. He is standing at an ice cream when The Pulse hits. In the first riots he befriends another non infected guy called Tom McCourt. They agree to stick together as far as they can and protect each other. They meet another non infected, this time a 16 year girl called Alice, before heading on the road back to Tom’s house to stock up and rest.

Those that have been infected are tearing around attacking each other and anyone that moves. They are talking gibberish, nothing slightly coherent. Their basic intellectual code has been over written by The Pulse. Their basic animal instincts have been brought back to the surface and replaced any sense of polite and ordinary standards that would be respectable in modern society.

As they make their way towards Clay’s wife’s house, they discover that the infected are starting to show signs of higher brain power. They can summon powers that the normal human cannot exhibit. They are confronted with the leader of the infected, Harvard Man, who harasses and terrorises them after they burned a flock of phoners.

I won’t spoil the ending but it is definitely one you want to read.

Based on this book i have become an avid fan of King and have began my collection of his work.

I would recommend this book to anyone and everyone that will listen.

This, for me, is without a doubt one of the best books i’ve ever read.

Why not give it a go and let me know what you think.



To write or Type, that is the question

Generally speaking I would consider myself a pen and paper kind of person. I detest the kindle (although I can see why people like them), I have a gargantuan stash of stationary including notepads, books and pens, and if I could bottle the smell of books and market it, I would be a billionaire. However, when it comes to actually writing my novel, I am stuck to my Mac like you wouldn’t believe.

I would love to be able to sit down and write an entire novel in a beautifully bound leather notebook, but there are many things that distract me from doing this. One of them is the state of my handwriting. Now, don’t get me wrong, I have lovely handwriting, but when it comes to keeping up with the words that eventually fall out of my hand onto the paper, it tends to get a little scruffy to say the least. Although there is something very beautiful and organic about writing your ideas and work in pen and ink, I think my perfectionism is getting the better of me once again.

Also, how do you keep up with the mass exodus of words that happen when you actually get those creative juices flowing? I mean, really, is it even possible? In an information age that we now live in, do we all not type faster that we can write? I am always worried that I will forget whatever nugget of gold that i just thought of, before I get a chance to record it.

When it comes to writing down raw ideas, I use a pen and my dedicated Novel Idea book. This I carry everywhere with me as you never know when genius is going to strike. Laptops are pretty tiny these days but they still aren’t as easy to use in public as a good old piece of paper and your favourite pen (And before you ask, yes I have a favourite pen.)

I always see pictures of notebooks filled with elegant writing and I think ‘why can’t my notebooks look like that when I’m in a rush’. Why can’t I be the type of writer to sit in a wine bar with a hearty glass of red while I scratch out the next bestselling novel with a beautiful fountain pen and notebook? Maybe it is a good thing that I have the best of both worlds. By day I work in Europe’s largest IT Company, by night I write my ideas in a note book and then type them out again on my Mac. Maybe I’m just stuck in between again.

Do you ever think that your brain functions differently dependant on the output of your efforts? Do writing in a notebook make you more educated and linguistic than tapping away at a computer? Are we barbaric for try taking the easy way out and typing instead of writing. I wonder what Shakespeare and Hemingway would have thought of the computer age.
We can only guess.

How do you prefer to write? Do you mix it up like me or are you one way or the other?

Happy Writing All 


Oh to be a Writer…. The weekly lowdown!


So i wrote a post called ‘Oh to be a writer’, and after thinking on it, i decided to make it into a series. A series, in the sense that i will now write, every single day about my high’s, my low’s, my successes and my failures, in my pursuit of the day i can say that i finally finished my first novel.

Along the way, i will be pursuing other writing ventures including more short stories, hopefully some writing competitions and some writing tips i find along the way.

I may also publish my reading list as i have numerous books that i have collected over the last few months that i havent even attempted to open recently. Reading can only improve my writing and there is no point reading all of these advice books if am not going to do the most fundamentally important thing for a writer. READ.

So, you lucky lot get to see a lot more of me and my writing 🙂

Happy writing everyone!


Someone kick me in the…

I have had a revelation  of sorts… I think I’m suffering from writers block!

Every day I get up with the intention of adding to my 30,000 words that I have already laid down in the name of my first novel. And every day something seems to distract from my adding anymore.

I love to read about the art of creating fiction. I have numerous advice books including a new one I just added to the collection (Stephen King, On writing) which fill me with an undescribable desire to crack on and finally finishing my debut novel. However, when it comes to actually getting words on paper (or words In Mac as is the case with me), I fall short. I know I am capable of putting words down but I think I am afraid that the words that appear with be ridiculous and not in anyways desirable enough for someone to want to read. And if by some miracle I manage to get them to actually dedicate real life hours of their life to reading my ramblings, that they will despise it so much that the ridicule will begin.

I think I have unconsciously talked myself out of finishing the novel through lack of self belief. I think the gargantuan task of finishing a novel is so firmly routed in my mind that it is blocking any creative just that are crashing down on it from behind.

Maybe i need to establish a few smaller milestones to distract away from the bigger picture. Maybe if I set some smaller goals, before I know it I will be 100,000 words strong and ready to do my second draft. Who knows. All I know right now is that I need to do something. Anything at all, that will break this barrier and let the juices flow.

Maybe i need to stop putting some much pressure on myself.

Let’s see what the week brings.

Happy writing everyone 🙂

Facebook Author Page


Howdy All!

So as you have probably guessed, i like to call myself an Author. After much deliberation with my inner critic, i came to the conclusion that i should actually start sharing my work so that people actually believed me.

This is where you will find all of my ramblings and writing mumbo jumbo. I tend to write about my journey, finishing my debut novel (if i ever get there) and the odd short story i throw out to the masses.

If you are at a loss as what to do this fine evening, why not stop by my Facebook and Twitter pages and say hi!

I’d love to hear from all like minded peeps, maybe we can swap war stories 🙂

B B Lewis

Smooshy Brain today…



Today, my brain does not want to function at the same high level it did yesterday.

Yesterday, i managed to smash out over 3000 words which is pretty good for me but today, I’m seriously struggling to get that sort of momentum going again. So, because my mind was finding it so difficult to be creative, I decided to reread all that I have written so far to see if I could edit or tweek some bits.

Funnily enough, I have managed to spot some of my own plot holes and come up with a strategic plan to fix them. I have corrected any grammer or spelling mistakes and I have even found the need for a few new chapters in between pre-existing ones which should be pretty easy to write considering they are in the middle of things. This should tie it all together a bit better and give the characters and story more depth. It may even make it feel fuller and expand the world in which they live.

So the moral of this story is, even if you’re finding it difficult to write new material each day, maybe re-evaluate the material you have already written. You never know, you might find a few things that need fixings and it all contributes to the final word count and that elusive first completed draft.

Never a wasted day 🙂

Powering through…

books couch


Today I seem to be on a roll or sorts. I have managed to smash out 1500+ words and it is only 2pm. If only I could sustain this sort of momentum for the next week weeks, I could have the first draft finished by the end of the month 🙂

I’m finding that the more I write, the more the story plays out in my minds eye just begging to be recorded on paper. My word count is slowly creeping up and its not feeling like a chore. I know where I want to go with my story, its only a matter of time before I get there.

Kudos to me lol

Wishing you all the best of luck with your own writing projects. May this be a productive week for all!

Happy Monday!


Keep calm and write 50k

So as most of you know, today was the start of NaNoWriMo!

This isn’t something that i have always wanted to do but never been actually got round to it. This month i was determined to join a cabin to reach my target of 50,000 words in the month of April.

Tonight i sat and forced myself through my writers block to finally get going on my long awaited, many times scraped, first ever novel. Well it won’t be a polished, ready for publishing, end product novel but it will be a massive chunk out of it. Plus maybe if i can stick with it for the entire month, it will put me in a good routine to power through the second 50,000 words to finally have a first draft in my hands. This is a day i have been waiting for for so long and I’m really excited to keep this going.

Tonight i managed to knock out an impressive (for me), credible daily word count of 1,755 words and i have even writing a quick note to kick start me into tomorrow’s writing sesh.

For all of you participating in Camp NaNoWriMo, i wish you all the luck in the world.

Good luck and feel free to keep me updated on your progress or any speed bumps your hitting!

Happy Writing!



So as some of you may know, i am currently working on my first novel and well lets just say that the first draft has been scrapped before i even progressed past chapter 8. That’s 8k words discarded and currently gathering dust in my hard drive. Now, before you all feel sorry for me, i have come to the conclusion that this is actually a good thing. Even though i had reached chapter 8, and 8k words, i suddenly became stuck like never before. I hadn’t really made a solid plan of the plot, although i knew my protagonist pretty well. This lead to me hitting a brick wall pretty early on. As i was free writing, i didn’t have a plan as such to refer back to and keep me on track, so i put it away for some time. In the meantime, i wasn’t a complete waste of space. I bought a few books on writing and how to improve my prose etc. It wasn’t that i was being lazy or anything but i couldn’t figure a way to move past the last chapter which then lead to the dreaded writer’s block. The funny thing is, all that reading i did actually did me some good. I suddenly got the bug for writing again, as i suddenly had a better starting place. I had set things in place so that i knew where i was going with my plot and also some of the finer details that i didn’t think about the first time round. This resulted in me scraping the entire first draft and the original plot. Unfinished.

I was sitting at work and all of a sudden, from out of nowhere, i had a bolt of inspiration and in ten minutes i managed to use some of the techniques in the books i had bought to completely re-write the entire plot for my novel. Now i feel more confident that i know where i am going but more importantly, i feel more confident that i can power through and make it through to then end of my first draft of my first ever novel.

Although, initially i was procrastinating, i used it as an educational period so that i wasn’t completely out of the writing loop. I would recommend home study for anyone that hasn’t got the time or means to attend writing classes. There are some fantastic books that can help you on your quest and should you get stuck, you always have them there to refer back to.

I am now 100% more happy with my direction and focus and who knows, maybe some time soon, i will have a first draft to brag about!

Happy Tuesday everyone! Happy Writing!

In The Dark By B.B Lewis

Short Stories


So here is a new short story for you guys. Please feel free to let me know what you think and if you enjoy it 🙂

Happy reading 🙂


In The Dark By B.B Lewis

As sergeant Tristan Banks stood inside the run down motel room, beside a rickety wooden table, unceremoniously smothered with 100 kilos of cocaine, he wondered how he had arrived at this point in his life. He had always looked up to his partner Max, ever since he had taken him under his wing as a young boy, just after his mother had died. Max had looked out for him like he was a little brother, even defending him against the bullies that would follow him on the way home from school, throwing rocks and sticks. They had been best friends for near on 20 years and Max had always been so fearless. Never letting anyone or anything get him down. Max had always been in complete control and this was one of the things that put Tristan in awe of his best friend. Other than his father, there was no one in this world Tristan had respected more. Until today.

“Put the money and the coke in the bag!” Max was wild eyed, waving his gun around like it was a toy and they were playing cops and robbers like they used to as kids.

“Fuck that shit man, do you know who you’re fucking with?! This aint the fucking boy scouts bitch!” Willy Williams was not known for his sense of humour.

“I’m not fucking around! Put the fucking money in the bag.”Max pistol whipped one of Willy’s henchmen sitting at the table, splitting his skull down to the bone like a hot knife through butter. Blood gushed out over the table covering everything in its path like a tidal wave. You could instantly see Willy’s eyes narrow. He had never let people take his shit in prison and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now. Nobody stole his milk.

“Fuck you!” Willy stood up, pulling a colt .45 from under the table that he had strapped there for this very reason. As proven by tonight, you can never be too careful. People didn’t know how to do respectable business these days.


Tristan dove behind a beat up island in the middle of the kitchen as shots began to fly. He had been trained for moments such as these but nothing really prepares you for when it happens. He had grown up watching gangster films like Scarface and the godfather. Growing up, he used to think gun fights were the coolest things in the world. Tonight he changed his mind. He slid out from behind the island and fired off two rounds, hitting one of the thugs square between the eyes. Tristan was a great shot, thanks to his dad.


Willy was getting angry now; he hated dirty cops, nearly as much as he hated other drug dealers. At least he was honest about who he was. Dirty cops hid in plain sight, pretending to protect and serve, when really they were just as dirty

and corrupted as the bad guys themselves. The only difference between Willy and this shit bag cop was that Willy couldn’t hide behind a badge and the law.

“You’ve fucked up now bitch! I’m gonna fuck your shit up! You ain’t getting out of here alive!” Willy shot off two more rounds, skimming the doorframe Max was hiding behind.


Max bent down and tried to get a glimpse of the two remaining henchmen. He knew about Willy Williams all too well. He was the local big time Charlie, drug dealer that thought he was above the law. He sold to some young kids on the block and got them to do all the dirty work for him. Except for big deals like this, he didn’t trust them with this kind of money.

“Tristan, I’m out, throw me a clip!”

“What the fuck have you got us into Max?” Tristan peaked out from behind the island to offer cover fire as he slid a clip over to Harr. He caught sight of one of Willy’s henchmen and hit him 3 times in the chest. The piercing wound oozed hot, thick, deep red blood down his designer shirt. He dropped to his knees with his eyes still open but his soul had left his body before it hit the ground.

“One down, two to go!” Tristan pulled his head back, just as a storm of bullets hit the side of his island right where his head had been only a fraction of a second earlier.

Fuck that was close.


The last henchman had taken a close range shot to the temple as he tried to make his way closer to Max. Willy had been the second fatality, taking a direct shotgun shell to the stomach.

“I got them!” Max appeared out from behind the doorframe looking rather smug with himself. Walking over to Tristan, he helped him up.

“What the fuck are you playing at Max?! How the hell are we supposed to explain this to the chief?” He was wild eyed, not quite believing what had just happened. Tristan started pacing; He had no idea how he was going to get out of this with his badge and career still intact. He could feel the beads of sweat start to drip down his temple as he tried to evaluate the situation. He didn’t want to let his dad down, he didn’t want to let Max down but he knew he had to tell the truth.

“Tristan, take it easy! We’ll just tell the chief that this scumbag tried to pull a gun on us. As long as we keep our story straight everything will be ok! I would never let anything happen to you. You’re like my little brother!”

As Max pulled Tristan in for a hug, Willy appeared behind them, blood dripping from his mouth and the fatal wound in his gut, where he had been hit by the shotgun Max had grabbed from one of the now deceased.

“Fuck you!” Willy pulled the trigger three times, all three shots hitting Tristan in the back, ripping through his spinal cord with ease and severing the main artery to his heart on its way through, as he stood in Max’s embrace.


From first appearances’, Brad Tucker was most definitely not the type of man you would consider to be emotional. Standing at 6’4, with a short back and sides and steely blue eyes, Brad had a very intimidating physical form. Today, looks could be deceiving. Today he was a shadow of his former self. Today was the day he buried his son.

Never in his wildest dreams, had Brad ever thought he would be burying his only son. It is unnatural. Parents were always supposed to go before their children. It was an unwritten rule. Now, here he was, standing in the middle of Oak Park Cemetery, watching his sons coffin be lowered into the ground to be laid to rest, next to his beloved mother April. As he watched the American flag over is sons coffin disappear into the earth, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was dreaming. It was more like a nightmare. It was definitely a nightmare.

Tristan was a good kid and he had been so proud when he graduated from the Police Academy last year. Max and Tristan had done everything together since they were 6 and this was no different. They had both passed with flying colours and then they became partners. Now Tristan was dead and Max was missing, and no matter how hard Brad tried, he couldn’t get his head around it. Something wasn’t right. His boy would never do the things they said he was doing. He just wouldn’t. He didn’t have it in him. The police department had released their official report of the case but something just didn’t add up. There was no way Tristan would have been involved in illegal drug deals involving monstrous amounts of money. He just didn’t have it in him.

As Brad stood with all these questions swirling round in his head, people came and people went, people offering their deepest condolences and a shoulder to cry on. But every word fell on deaf ears. None of it mattered. Standing alone at Tristan’s final resting place, Brad had never felt more alone.

As the last shovel of soil was patted into place as Brad laid a single long stemmed red rose for his beloved son. In that moment Brad knew what he had to do. He had to find Max.