Category: storytimewithgavin

Grim for pre-order and an awful run

Grim for pre-order and an awful run

It’s four weeks today until the release of Grim, and you can pre-order it now!


It’ll drop you just £2.99. It’s a bargain. Believe me.

(Oh my God I will go full Taylor Swift is someone tells me my book isn’t worth £2.99. I will start fires.)

Some notes regarding the book:

First up, the target audience is mid-twenties to mid-thirties nerds. That’s definitely not to say my book isn’t for you if you’re out with that age range, of course. The target audience for most of my lego sets is half my age, that doesn’t mean I don’t adore it.

However, and I need to say this, it isn’t for kids. Good God, do not show my book to your children. Listen to me. Don’t do it. Oh, but your parenting style is really progressive and- NO. The word ERECTION is ON THE FIRST PAGE. Okay? I’m not writing porn here (maybe one day!), but my book isn’t for your kids.

Of note secondly, it’s Kindle-only for now. If you wanted a print copy, maybe later. I can’t guarantee it; don’t hold your breath. This isn’t a sales scam where I expect you to buy it twice, that’s really not the case. If you don’t have a Kindle, it’s cool. Every phone and every tablet going has a Kindle App, so there is a way. Just search for it in your selected app store. I believe in you.

Third, I have to reference Saga again. We love Saga. Saga had a bit in the letters page of the most recent issue that said little projects like this do not have fans early in their life, they have families. (Yes, this cheesy-as-fuck sentiment is brought to you by the same people who brought you that full-page robot phallus I mentioned last week.) The sentiment is there, and I love it. My book, so labouriously early in my career only has a crowd of people huddled around it, trying to keep it alive. You know the best way to keep it alive? Tell your pals. Tell anyone who reads. Especially people who read modern fantasy.

So, that’s my spiel. If you haven’t already pre-ordered, I think you should. You’ll wake up on the morning of the 14th with a new book on your Kindle, ready to go. Is there a better way to start a Friday?

…Yeah, okay, don’t answer that, my bad.



That didn’t take as many words as I thought it would, so eh…

New subject: Don’t exercise with a hangover.

That seems obvious. What I mean is don’t exercise with any level of hangover, at all. I had an eight-cider evening last Friday and woke up feeling a touch woolly. Regardless, I thought I would go out a run.

I’m doing this couch to 5K thing. I felt committed to the idea. It was silly.

With my sore head, I didn’t really have the energy for like… clean clothes. I found shorts and a t-shirt that I’d definitely worn twice before and shoved them on. I hadn’t showered, I put on my ugly incognito hat, and I was wearing bright, odd-coloured socks and white trainers.

Here’s the thing, save for the cleanliness of the clothes, that’s usually how I’m going out running. Why? Because I don’t give a fuck. I’m out a run around the park on my bloody doorstep. If anybody thinks I look ridiculous, I should be running at such a speed I don’t hear about it.

My head hurts like hell, I’m dressed like a tramp, I smell like a kebab box, and I’m going out running and…

Goddammit, I forgot my keys.

My door is on a snib. It locks itself as soon as it shuts, and it was as soon as it banged shut at my arse I realised I didn’t have my keys on me.

I stood there staring at it for about twenty minutes just… wondering what I was going to do. After that, I stepped outside into the rain and let ANOTHER door slam at my back. So, suddenly I was wet too. That’s grand.

I had options, and here’s what they looked like.

Remember Danny from the cutlery theft? () He lives around the corner from me. I could have given him a buzz and hopefully he’d let me in to surf his couch for four hours until my girlfriend, Simone, got home. The problems with that were two-fold. One: I had plans before Simone came home. Two: Danny would never, ever let me live that down and I don’t blame him even a little bit.

My other option? Get a train into the centre of Glasgow and walk to work, where Simone would come out and give me her set of keys. So that’s what I did.

A moment here, just to thank the lord for Android pay. All I had on me was my phone, and if it weren’t for Android pay, I was walking the hour to work in that weather.

Of course, there was a wild card.

I mean, I wasn’t having a good day as it stood, I could’ve done without something making it worse.


I live around the corner from Scotland’s national football stadium, you understand, and it just so happened to be a game day. Awesome. Just excellent. So there’s me, the walking dead, shambling through a few hundred half-pissed hooligans, making my train four times busier than I really needed it to be. Then at Central itself, oh the station was just lovely. Queues to get on my train. Police everywhere. Just awesome.

I get outside my work and text Simone, begging her to come down. I catch the eye of one of the security guards who looks like he’s legitimately about to come out and kick my head in.

Eventually, Simone arrives with the keys and informs me that I’m on the security cameras and the guards thought I was a genuine homeless person.

I mean.

I ran home after that.

As well as the fact that my train station was queued out with hooligans, I was determined that if I was at the very least getting my run in.

So yeah, look… if you think about exercising with a hangover, just don’t. I blame the headache for all of this. I don’t care what you think.

Go pre-order my book though, thanks!

It’s Gavin