General Discussion : It looks like...

No it's a good question. The ebook is out. and the paper version is out now, but not officially till 22nd of this month. the revews Ive had here:http://www.amazon.co.uk/product-reviews/1908122129/ref=dp_top_cm_cr_acr_txt/280-1294883-9782611?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=1 
have been good. I don't know why it's go so much hype in certain circles. I'm not overdoing the hype, I genuinely never believed it'd get picked up. The short version is I wrote some posts on a surfing forum that folks liked, and the went viral. So, I wrote a book. Thought it'd end there. It is though, very rude. It has an attempted rape by a transvestite, sex with a dead disabled woman, drugs and having a strap-on cock placed on a guys head and he is forced to be a uni-porn in a snuff movie. And murder. For all it's stupid and gross bits, folks seem to genuinely like the main character. Martin, the main guy behind my publisher has been in the business for 40 years, and set up an Indie imprint as he got sick of all the safe, celeb, cookery stuff milled out buy the big guys. He, and his two henchmen Paul and Josh have peddled it about to lots of folks. People like' Turnaround' who are a big distribution company who want to push more indy books. All I can say is it's luck - not talent. I think cos it's outlandishly funny, and there is a lack of funny (people still talk about Catch 22 - from the 60's) has found some welcome attention. It might be because I've caused so much shit in the events and meets I've been sent to (an influential agent called me the Devil!).
Honestly, I think it's just luck. The right people have picked it up.

Yeah we had sniffs of intent. Parties said they were interested. We are at the stage now, where I have to meet script/screen writers. There is a huge list of what you cannot do it seems. Graphic sex - that's okay, a guy watching graphic sex... isn't. How to make it work will be a huge problem. On the back of what Brandon said (cos I feel like a kid that's walked in hallway through a movie - I know nothin about nothin) I asked the publisher's owner how did we get here so fast (as in film talk)? Turns out, London still thinks like a village - it's who you know it seems. The ebook was sent to two film companies as soon as was able too.
I have to say, my concern is that, in an X-factor style, all will get pushed through and bullied for a fast cash reward. I'd like the book to be out there a while first, in the hopes a visionary like 'Fincher' would pick it up (you gotta have a dream!). There was a bit last night with one guy who said "Some of the content, the dialogue I can't see how we'd get it in or convey the same message." The book is in first person. It seemed obvious to me that you'd narrate it in thought. Bit it's the descriptions some like it seems. It is written in a cinematic way (so I'm told) but the content is what is getting folks laughing.

A bit from 'Malice' as an explination

I knock on the door and from inside she shouts, “It’s open, come inside.”  I’d love too come inside, and over your Mafia Wife tits, I thought. 
I look about the beautifully decorated flat but see no one. Then I look down a bit. And there she is. In a wheelchair. In a fucking wheelchair. Inside my head Im screaming “Aaaaaaaarghhhhhhhhhh, Aaaaaaaarghhhhhhhhhh, Aaaaaaaarghhhhhhhhhh.” It was on a loop in my head like a silent car alarm. She had to be late fifties, a big head, covered in scars. She looked like the woman Arnie was inside in ‘Total Recall’. Two chins too many. Arms like Pop-Eye, I guessed from hauling herself about in the chair. OK, I’m far from hot. After all the beatings, I look like a bruised banana, but fuck me, she was a whole other kind of mess. She had a big upper body with folds and folds of fat.  Stretched over her was a fishnet stocking teddy top, and her tits were kinda shoe-horned in so they fell at different angles. When she moved they jiggled about like a wet gym sock with a baked potato in the bottom. Her thin muscle wasted legs ended in red stilettoed shoes on feet that fell awkwardly like a broken dolls. She looked like Mr. Incredible dressed for the Rocky Horror Show.  You wouldn’t so much call her fat as lumpy.  It looked like she’d just been dragged from a fucking swamp.

“Hi, lets do this, show me what you got big boy,” she said. Then smiled. She had to much red lipstick on her lips and her teeth. Thank God I couldn’t shit any more. I was about to say, “I’m here to read your meter,” when she turned and rolled off away toward the bedroom.
“Your in a wheelchair,” I said.

“I know,” she replied.

“But. But aren’t you paralyzed, you know… down there?”
 She rolled into the bedroom. There was no way I was going to get a hard cock. No fucking way.
The bedroom was decorated with thick velvet curtains pulled closed. Low lighting and incense slightly masked the stench of cigarettes and antiseptic. She lifted herself out of the chair and did a kind of power-bench press, throwing herself onto the bed. I wished I had her bulging biceps. I’d never lose another fight again. Her landing on the bed wasn’t very elegant or lady-like, she crashed sideways, then with her body builder arms hoisted herself to sit up on the edge of the bed. It looked like when R2D2 gets knocked down and gets back up again. She crossed her legs with her hands. They flapped around like over cooked asparagus. It reminded me of how a ventriloquist does it. This would be one fuck ugly puppet, that would make kids piss the bed with fear.

“Spinal. Legs don’t do shit, but still have some feeling left in my cunt.”

OH. MY. GOD. Did she just say cunt? Did she just call her cunt a cunt? No woman calls her vagina a cunt. I have a little bit of sick in my mouth.
“Besides,” she continued, “I still like to feel like a woman. And even us disabled women need a bit of cock from time to time.” She leaned over, and pulled out a cigarette and a lighter from her bedside table which was topped with loads of empty wine glasses. She struck the lighter three times.  It sparked to life on the fourth and she lit the cigarette, it glowed as she drew long and hard on it.
 “C’mon, lets fuck,” she said out of the side of her mouth, lips holding the cigarette in place one eye squinting through the smoke. This was nothing like Helena Bonham Carter’s Marla in Fight Club. She bounced herself further to the edge of the bed, comedy legs swinging about at all angles. She lay back and snapped open the poppers at the bottom of her teddy, revealing her genitals. I say genitals, as I have no other way to describe the mess before me. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. So much red hair and flesh. It looked like someone had run over an orangutan, then hit it with an axe. Hair on her thighs, ass cheeks, everywhere.  And thick, industrial lips, like pickled cow tongues.

OOOoooooooooooofffffffffff! Signed!

A UK indy company in association with BBC... they want me to go back up to London and start what ever the fuck it is you are supposed to do next. I'm acting all elusive and, 'I've a lot on, earliest I can do is beginning of April' truth is I'm fucking broke... just paid for a week in a hotel!

You can't say to film companies "Hey fucker - I'm a low paid shithead, with a fucking shitty job... that I need, but hate... but need. I'd love to dick around in London pretending to be 'sombody' for a bit longer, but I have to go back to doing what I hate, to pay for shit." It's so expensive where these people go as well. One place in London, waiting for them I ordered an Espresso...£4. FOUR FUCKING POUNDS!! I said "Four pounds? Did I break a fucking window on the way in here or something??"

I'd be super excited if I could afford to be!

Thanks dudes and dudettes. Hey Covewriter, here:
http://www.cuttingedgepress.co.uk/books/malice-in-blunderland/

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Malice-Blunderland-Jonny-Gibbings/dp/1908122129

Woke up feeling scared as fuck... people expect things of me now!