Jack Binding's Blog, page 3

Underneath: Dot Matrix

The third short story in Pills, and the first I put out as an individual Kindle, back in October 2016.

It was a scary experience. My first toe-dip into the murky waters of indie publishing. But it went down pretty well, and gave the the confidence to keep going.

With regards to the story itself. Well, in no way are any of the characters based on people I actually knew in a career I honestly didn’t work in. The whole thing is fictional. Made up. Bullshit.

In no way does it brutally mirror real life and some of the assholes I had to deal with on a day-to-day basis.

Let’s leave it there for now …

Underneath: The Hookup

Although The Hookup is only the second short story in Pills, it was the last I wrote for the collection.

Something was missing, and it was my love Jim Thompson. I wanted a louche narrator whispering in your ear. A sleazy dickhead, trawling bars for coke and sex.

Initially, it was called Fucking Your Brains Out and was about a one night stand that ended when one of the coupling couple’s heads exploded. Worked well as an initial idea, but soon became quite stupid. I wanted to ground the story in the same universe as the rest of the collection, so I made the death more ambiguous, which in turn made it more sinister.

Like several stories in Pills, The Hookup is so grimy, you’ll probably want to take shower after reading it. Also, like many of the stories in the collection, it is pretty fucking true.

As a side note – there was a certain part of my life in which people would only ever play Interpol at parties, like they represented the renaissance of rock music and weren’t actually some third-rate Joy Division rip off. Still, at least they were better than Editors. Fuck me, what a relentless drone.

Also the thing about Kate Moss is based on a true story.

Underneath: PROPERTY

A few times a week, I’m going to post some snippets behind the short stories in Pills.

In November 2016, it was with some trepidation that I released Property as a short Kindle story. My main worry was that it was simply too bleak for public consumption. Depression, death etc. The humour is scant in Property and the atmosphere is kind of oppressive. I suppose that’s why it works well as a short story. 80k words of that crap might have been too much.

Anyway, the reviews were kind. It seemed to resonate with people, and they liked it even more than Dot Matrix, which was the only thing I’d put out before Property.

Living in London for as long as I did, I had to endure the weekday commute for years. I’ve had physical fights, shouting matches, bruises from stray elbows, briefcases lodged in my ass, and my daily dose of twats who think its acceptable to read a broadsheet on the Victoria Line at 8am.

Right now, watching the news about hurricane Harvey ripping Texas apart and seeing the goodwill people are showing to each other (despite their polarising political views) is the sort of thing that makes a person have faith in the human race. 30 minutes on the Central line at 5pm on Tuesday is the exact opposite – you see people at their worst. Selfish, ignorant and rude.

It grinds one down.

And I was always dumbstruck at the sheer volume of people who will endure the commute to take themselves to a shitty job so they can scrape the rent or the mortgage on a shitty place to live. What was even more hard to accept was that I was one of those people.

It felt like a trap. The allure of the big city – its promise of a successful career, affluent friends, culture and a booming social life soon gave way to nudging old ladies out of the way so you can grab the one vacant seat on a train for 20 minutes.

I like to think that I had manners for the most part of it, but I certainly had my moments.

So it was after a particularly gruelling commute from Moorgate to Palmers Green on evening that I wrote the first draft of Property. Took me about an hour.

The second person narrative came from me reading Ray Bradbury’s The Dark and loving the way the fear increased by the complicity of the word You. I wanted the reader to feel they were trapped in the same world as the couple in Property.

I was worried the ending might upset people. I was right.

 

Property FREE Forevs

Considering Amazon’s preview of Pills contains the whole of Property, I thought it only fair I make the short story free forever.

Of course, it goes against Amazon’s policy to simply click a button and make the fucker free, so I had to publish it on Smashwords and then email them so they could adjust the price accordingly.

So there you are – you can now download Property for free on Kindle here.

And, as a byproduct, you can also download it as an ePub on these pretty little websites (also gratis):

iBooks

Barnes & Noble

Kobo

Smashwords

So if you’ve not had the joy of reading my excellent shit, you can now do so without parting with any of your hard earned cash. And you don’t even need a Kindle. A regular old iPhone 3 will do it. Probably.

Property, if you can’t be arsed to read the blurb, is a dark short story about commuting and being trapped in modern city life.

People seem to like it.

Maybe you’ll like it too.

Pop a review up if you feel so inclined. Or don’t if you don’t.

 

Adulation

I’ve been getting a little attention recently. I’ve reblogged a few over the last couple of weeks … And then, as if that wasn’t enough, they’ve interviewed me over at Conscious Talk, during which I don’t swear once and I reveal a little snippet about some of thinking behind my short story collection, Pills.

CTM have also done me the courtesy of giving Pills a cracking review.

Furthermore, the sales to my books and short stories have started to grow. Feedback from Pills has been better than I ever imagined it would be. (Although the underlying message seems to be: “It’s dark as hell. What the fuck is wrong with you?”)

But, shit. I wasn’t expecting any of that. Thought I’d just put the thing out and then slip back into cosy, lukewarm obscurity. Tick that life goal off my bucket list and get on working a middle management job at some company or other.

I didn’t plan on people being into it.

But here I am. Deal with it.

Anyway, to celebrate my success, here’s a clip from Cruel Intentions (up there with White Chicks and Lifeforce in my top films of all time).

Meet The Author: Jack Binding- Dark Humour, Horror Author #amreading #horror #british

Enjoy, friends.

Author, Kim Knight

It’s the 25th of the month and boy am I glad to spotlight this British author. He is super talented and I loved his book of short stories Pills. You can read my reviewhere. Jack’s style sits well with me personally as a reader, I get him and his work. It’s dark, it’s raw, and not for the faint hearted.  Inspired by the main man Stephen King himself. I could not keep a straight face during this interview it was an absolute pleasure to  meet him. Let’s get to know Mr. Binding’s style… let’s get into it!

Hello nice to meet you! Tell us a bit about you where are you from and other than writing what else do you enjoy?

Hello. My name is Jack and technically, I’m from Slough (where The Office is set). But I moved to Southampton when I was three years old. Okay…

View original post 1,784 more words

Get to know Jack

I’ve depleted my creative juices by doubling my writing target today (and also from having a two-day hangover after a whisky tasting evening), so here’s a survey I nicked from http://fuckyeahsurveys.tumblr.com

 

If you could…



Travel anywhere, where would it be? Masala Lounge Indian restaurant in Chandlers Ford, UK.
Meet anyone, who would it be? A clone of myself.
Bring anyone dead back to life, who would it be? Sting.
Be anyone for a day, who would it be? My clone.
Get anything for free for the rest of your life what would it be? A steady stream of Jack Binding clones.
Change one thing about your life what would it be? I’d like to have a second penis. One is not enough.
Have any superpower what would it be? Two dicks.
Be any animal for a day which would you be? Colin Farrell.
Date anyone who would it be? A clone of myself.
Change one thing about the world what would it be? Increase funding into cloning.
Live in any fictional universe which would you choose? Battlestar Galactica (the recent series with the clones).
Eliminate one of your human needs which would you get rid of? The need to sleep.
Change one thing about your physical appearance what would it be? I’ve always toyed with the idea of bleaching my hair.
Change one of your personality traits which would you choose? None. I’m perfect.
Be talented at anything instantly what would you choose? Cloning.
Forget one event in your life which would you choose? Nothing. It’s all good material.
Erase an event from history (make it so it never happened) which would you choose? That night I went to see Bridge of Spies and it was the most boring film ever.
Have any hair/eye/skin color, which would you choose? All purple.
Be any weight/body type, which would you choose? Massive.
Live in any country/city, where would you choose? I live where I want to.
Change one law in your country, which would you change? Human cloning restrictions.
Be any height, which would you choose? The exact same height as my clone.
Have any job in the world, which would you choose? Clone maker.
Have anything appear in your pocket right now, what would it be? Self-cloning device.
Have anyone beside you right now, who would it be? My clone. 

Sexy Hobo

So here I am, trawling the utter dross that compiles most of the Amazon bestseller list, when I start noticing that every other book has the word “Billionaire” in the title.

So I’ve had a go a redressing the balance, by taking a few of those book titles and replacing the word “Billionaire” with the word “Hobo”.

Temptation: The Hobo’s Seduction Book 4

Sold On Valentine’s Day: A Virgin and Hobo Romance

Claiming Cinderella: A Dirty Hobo Fairytale

Judged: A Hobo Biker Romance

Hobos and Ballerinas

The Hobo Takes All

The Cowboy’s Nanny – A Single Dad Hobo Romance

Hobo Beast (Hobos Book #11)

Baby By The Hobo – A Standalone Alpha Hobo Secret Baby Romance

Hobo Unloved: The Hobo’s Obsession

V-Card For Sale – A Hobo/Virgin Second Chance Auction Romance

Always Mine (The Barrington Hobos Book 1)

No Ordinary Hobo

Turbulent Intrigue (Hobo Aviators Book 4)

Hobo’s Amnesia: A Standalone Novel (An Alpha Hobo Romance Love Story) (Hobos – Book #9)

Forever Perfect: Hobo Medical Romance (A Chance At Forever Series Book 1)

The Hobo’s Kitten: A Fake Marriage Romance

Daddy’s Hobo Friend

The Forbidden Hobo

Dirty Together (The Dirty Hobo Trilogy Book 3)

The Hobo’s Touch

Secluded Valley: Hobo Cowboy

The Hobo’s Christmas

Bedding The Hobo (Book 3) (The Legacy Collection)

The Hobo’s Secret Heart (Scandals of the Bad Boy Hobos Book 1)

 

 

Have I made my point?

Good.

‘Til next time.

Poppers

Ever so often, something pops up and reminds me of my past. My strange, patchy past. And while I can bleat on about how I should’ve been more responsible, less promiscuous, taken fewer drugs and been, generally, a nicer person, I cannot deny that I had an absolute fucking blast.

Look at me, talking like it’s all over, as I make my way through a bottle of McLaren Vale Shiraz (with the obligatory Wild Turkey chaser) with Chicks On Speed blasting from my stereo like it’s 2003. But I am 37 years old. I do have these adult things like a proper job, a couple of civilised dinner parties a month. I understand shares and mortgages and grape varieties. But I suppose, deep down. I’m the same fucking idiot I’ve always been.

Regular Pinky Brown.

Recently, however, I’ve been thinking on my past. I don’t think it’s fair to say I miss it, but I do look back on it with a certain fondness.

In my early twenties I suppose I was popular. There were two clubs in my little hometown that my friends and I would frequent regular as Westboro Baptist churchgoers. One was on a Wednesday (which was responsible for a work appraisal about my “consistent Thursday absences”) and the other was on a far more socially acceptable Friday night. My friends and I – and I’m talking ten, maybe twelve of us – would congregate in the basement bar of a local pub and get fucked up from about 5pm. We’d then stagger down to the clubs for opening time, which was 9pm.

I’d always make sure I had 40 cigarettes on me. Camel Lights if I was trying to impress someone, Marlboro Reds if I was in a bad mood, and Mayfair Smooth if I was skint. I’d have enough to chain smoke all night and a few spares to hand out to whoever I was flirting with.

9pm was a good time to hit the club, because the DJ was more likely to play my requests. Undanceable shit, that I would dance to regardless. Tracks like Unsolved Child Murder by The Auteurs, If You Can’t Live Without Me Then Why Aren’t You Dead Yet? by My Life Story, or Mongoloid by Devo.

As 10pm drew closer and people milled into the club, the first thing they’d see would be me and my friends making odd shapes on an empty dance floor. We were posers, and we did very well for ourselves because of it.

I remember one night, around 1pm, someone was passing around a bottle of poppers. I disliked the song playing (I think it was something by Jamiroquai), so I grabbed the bottle and rolled it onto the dance floor like Navy SEAL sending a smoke grenade into a hostile room. The fumes of the amyl nitrate wafted up and soon nobody was dancing, they were just holding their heads in agony and mouthing ‘Why?’

Back to 2017 and my adult life … Last weekend I was dressed sensibly whilst wandering around this new apartment block being shown nice, plush places to live by the serious, commission-driven estate agent. We talked figures and this and that, and whether I’d prefer the my mirrors to have a smokey effect and whether I like the dark finish or the light finish in terms of the furnishings and paint job (dark, obvs).

And suddenly, I thought, I can’t do this. I’m the prick who rolled a full jar of poppers onto a dance floor in a crowded nightclub in 2003.

So I made my excuses and left.

 

 

 

Pills Reviews

So seeing as I spent so long writing this fucking thing, I suppose I should consider marketing it.

Sometimes life gets in the way. It’s a positive interruption, for once, but it’s an interruption nonetheless. However, I’ll write more about that later …

Any reviewers want a copy of Pills so you can whack a five-starrer on Amazon, Goodreads or the front page of The Guardian?

I can do .mobi (kindle), .epub or PDF.

Drop me a line HERE. It’d make my dog (see above) happy.

And then when I’m even more famous than I am right now, and there’s a launch party for the sequel in my Manhattan sprawling penthouse, during which I hire the entire cast of Friends (including the Brad Pitt and the guy who played Gunther) to serve canapés, just because I can, well, maybe you’ll receive an invite. Maybe.