How to be dead

At the moment we’re redrafting one of our novels, Missed Call. We wrote a 4K story version that The Pages published. We loved the characters and felt there was a novel waiting to break free from the story. Turns out, we were right. For once. We’ve done unusual reasearch for it, such as driving round town checking where the CCTV cameras are, walking St. Mary Street in town on Christmas Day photographing all the pubs and clubs. We were the only ones there. It was like being in a zombie film. Without the zombies. We even dragged our poor mum out to two different woods to see whether they’d be suitable for dumping bodies in. We had to check to see if it’d be possible to carry or transport a body to our chosen sites, where the best place would be to conceal it and would anyone be able to see? We’re having problems with the transportation bit. The paths aren’t wide enough for a quad bike, it would be difficult to carry a corpse the whole way and we’re not sure whether it’s possible to put a corpse on a trail bike. Bet we’re the only people in the world who spent their New Year’s Day trawling woods for body dumps. Maybe not. Just to make things clear – we aren’t serial killers. It’s research, we promise.

We’ve just entered the Brit Writers Awards. We submitted two short stories and a collection of five poems so fingers crossed. We’re unlikely to get anywhere, we don’t write the intelligent literary stuff that seems to win competitions, as you can probably guess by the whole body dump shenanigans we get up to. Signing off to watch the Under 20’s Six Nations match between Wales and Scotland. Last year the beautiful Jason Tovey and gorgeous Kristian Phillips played. Are they too young for us at 20 and 19 respectively? We’ll be 27 on the 17th. No? That’s alright then. Be still our beating hearts.