And they all turn out to be robots

A few posts back I talked about my brain leaking ridiculousness. Now, you might think that fortunate for someone who has to be creative for a job (I'm a corporate writer btw, not a sculptor or something) but the insanity often ruins the simple creative process.

Like now, for the four thousandth time, I've been writing stories to form a book. Yes, honest I have. I've been scrawling down plots and characters and hilarious cliffhangers involving erm...robots. Yes, robots. That's all my brain ever seems to add at the end of a sentence.

It happens all the time. I can be writing the most uplifting passage of human bravery and wisdom but my brain always has an idea, at the front of my mind, that at least one of my characters should turn out to be a robot. That's not particularly good in the short story I'm writing about a 1960's dustman who finds a haunted golf club. 1960's robots, even the ones in the films, were rubbish. Either giant blocks with clown shoes or obviously sex-ed up femmedroids.

I try to reason with my head, talk it down from it's automaton ledge by explaining that to rationally place a human-life android into any story would require so much explanation it might as well be ruddy magic. Perhaps that's why JK Rowling stuck to wizards. Can't be explained? Oh, because it's magic. Or time travel. Or a spell or something. She was very clever.

Anyway, I know you're all dying to know what the stories are about. There's a children's novel about a young lad, originally called Alberto Thrumpton and now probably Sam Rockitt who discovers that all is not what it seems in his sleepy seaside town. It's got mysterious goings on, bombs, escapes from ledges, dastardly spies and now a volcano. I call it a children's book, because it sounds like the thing I would come up with if I was still 8 years old. There might as well be a hospital made out of cheese for all I care. Hang on. Not a bad idea for the sequel...

For the more mature reader (teengager/young adult) a book of 6 short stories including an addictive internet search engine (honest), a sinister cat and something about the 2100 new year's eve event in America. And in the last of one they all turn out to be robots.

There I go again see? Damn brain.

Anyway, look out for them appearing in the bookshops sometime before I die. Maybe even sooner.