Have A Host, Ellis Collins with Octopuses and me at the Blue Notes, Still Frames launch.

It was a great night, last Thursday, when my new Brighton novel, Blue Notes, Still Frames (Ward Wood Publishing) was launched at Have A Word in Brighton’s smart Latest Music Bar. I was reading from the novel along with friends and fellow Sussex novelists, Vg Lee  and Allie Roberts. The evening ended with a terrific set from my son, Adam Bell’s Brighton based band, Octopuses. It wasn’t just me who thought it was a great night – that was the general consensus too.

I was reading from my new Brighton novel, Blue Notes, Still Frames.

I think it must’ve been a world first for a novel to be launched by the novelist and the novelist’s son’s rock band – if this is a precedent, I recommend it highly.

It was appropriate for a number of reasons; my novels and the band are based in Brighton and the book has an important music theme – thus the blue notes. The main character, Joe Edevane, is a flautist busker and Octopuses have a flautist in their line-up.  So the  event was full of shared themes and interests. Octopuses played from their current album, Yes Please, and they brought the evening to a rousing conclusion.

Here’s one of their latest videos – take a look:

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I’m sorry everyone, if you’ve been looking for my regular blogs. I’ve been busy all year on my novel-writing activities and decided to give the blogs a rest. Today though, yay, I finished the third draft on my third Brighton novel, Over The Hills Is A Long Way Off.  I also heard, last week, that my second Brighton novel, Blue Notes, Still Frames, is to be published (by Ward Wood Publishing) in October this year. So I’m not only feeling truly excited and chuffed but also, dare I say it, a bit whacked too. It’s been an amazing year because I’ve been pushing myself on both novels almost simultaneously, after deciding that I wanted to up my game in 2016.

You could say it was part of my New Year’s Resolution for 2016.

I spent New Year’s Eve with family – staying in with a bottle of whisky and some DVDs. That might sound tame to all you party-lovers out there, but I was fine about it. Actually I have always thought New Year’s Eve was about putting my life into perspective – looking back on the year now ending and looking forward and making plans for the future.

On that night, I watched the inspirational  Oscar-winning film Whiplash (2014) directed by Damien Chazelle and starring Miles Teller as a young drumming genius, Andrew Neyman, and his terrifying, bullying but also inspiring teacher Terence Fletcher (J.K. Simmons). It’s a great music film, of course, but it is much much more.

It was engaging enough watching the film for its own inner drama but, while I was suffering with the young jazz drummer who was being driven to produce the best possible performance that he was capable of,  I was wondering if I had ever pushed myself that far.

In the film, the drummer practises again and again until his hands begin to bleed and the blood, memorably, splatters onto the drums.

Could I do that? I asked myself. Not on the drums but with my writing. I had recently done a new draft of my novel Blue Notes, Still Frames (which is about, amongst other things, music and musicians) and thought that it was in a pretty good state. But was it? Had I gone over it until I bled? Well no.

So, beginning in the first week in January, I went back to the book and slogged it out and, in my own way, I bled a little. Then, as January moved into February, March, April and then May, I continued on that book (which is now with Ward Wood Publishing) but also on my new novel,  Over The Hills Is A Long Way Off,  which is a comedy about people’s dreams and fantasies and whether they can actually come true. I hope I’ve given this book too the energy I admired so much in Whiplash. Certainly, now that this period of intense writing is over, I am looking at my hands for signs of bleeding.

That is how it has been – I have been ignoring friends and family and you my loyal blog-readers but i’m hoping you forgive me.  Now I can  begin to think of other things – that is why I’ve returned here to my blog-site.

I’m looking forward to the new novel coming out this October and hope that you will find yourself a copy when the time comes. In the meanwhile, if you haven’t done so already, you can always get a copy of my first Brighton novel, Stephen Dearsley’s Summer Of Love (also published by Ward Wood Publishing). Between now and October I hope to write more about why I seem to have written a trilogy of Brighton novels, hoping that you will continue the journey with me. I might even put my toe back into the water on other subjects  now that a year has passed since the UK General Election that made me, at least, despair of politics.

Anyway, if you’re looking for similar inspiration to mine, then here’s a look at that movie – if you haven’t seen it already, or even if you have, it will make you rethink just how much you put into trying to achieve your dreams.

The post How the movie Whiplash inspired my New Year’s Resolution about how I was going to write my two new Brighton novels. appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

I’ve been looking at some of my answers published on-line yesterday, pleased to remember those foothill years as a novelist when I was planning my first novel, Stephen Dearsley’s Summer Of Love.
Sometimes, I’m amazed that I ever got it together and that it finally made it into print. Amazed and thrilled.

My fellow Ward Wood novelist, the Irish writer, Shauna Gilligan came up with some great questions when she asked me to do an interview with her for her blog, A Girl’s Writing Is Never Done. We did a question and answer session on my novel, Stephen Dearsley’s Summer Of Love and it was a useful exercise for me to go back into my memory to find some of the reasons and motivations for my writing about Stephen and his progress through the late 1960s in his hometown of Brighton, Sussex. Shauna’s impressively sharp line of questioning drew out of me thoughts I didn’t know I’d had or that I’d forgotten. So thanks Shauna – much appreciated, especially the stuff about James Joyce and one of my favourite books, The Portrait Of The Artist As A Young Man.

I hope, some time, that she will let me pose her a series of questions about her terrific novel, Happiness Comes From Nowhere.

If you’d like to read our interview, here’s the link to Shauna’s blog:

http://shaunaswriting.com/wordpress/2014/09/colin-bell-on-brighton-music-and-his-own-stephen-d/

Thanks for asking me to do this, Shauna.

The post Stephen Dearsley’s Summer Of Love: A novel inspired by The Beatles, Brighton and James Joyce. appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

Pathé Films have released their archive for us all to enjoy on-line. How great is that! I’ve always been fascinated by old films of everyday life so I was excited to see the footage of my old stamping ground of Brighton seafront shot during the 1970s.

For fans of my novel Stephen Dearsley’s Summer Of Love (well there myst be some, somewhere!) many of the book’s locations in their original clothes can be observed as the camera rolls by nonchalantly recording everything without prejudice. Take a look – it’s a kind of journey.

STEPHEN DEARSLEY’S SUMMER OF LOVE BY COLIN BELL

My novel, Stephen Dearsley’s Summer Of Love, was published  on 31 October 2013. It is the story of a young fogey living in Brighton in 1967 who has a lot to learn when the flowering hippie counter culture changes him and the world around him.

It is now available as a paperback or on Kindle (go to your region’s Amazon site for Kindle orders)

You can order the book from the publishers, Ward Wood Publishing:

http://wardwoodpublishing.co.uk/titles-fiction-colin-bell-stephen-dearsleys-summer-of-love.htm 

…or from Book Depository:

http://www.bookdepository.co.uk/Stephen-Dearsleys-Summer-Love-Colin-Bell/9781908742070

…or from Amazon:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Stephen%20Dearsley’s%20Summer%20Of%20love

The post Pathé Films upload Stephen Dearsley’s Brighton appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

After my incarceration at home with a lung infection, I’m wrapping up against the weather and getting a taxi to Brighton’s Latest Music Bar for this evening’s Have A Word, Brighton’s rather smart literary review where I shall be reading from my new novel Stephen Dearsley’s Summer Of Love, my Brighton-based novel set in 1967.

If you can get there, it would be great to see you. I’m also going to read some of my poetry but don’t let that put you off. I shall have some copies of the novel with me if you would like a signed copy. My fellow Ward Wood writer, V.G. Lee is on the bill too so, even if you don’t want to see me, she is a very good reason for coming along.

My novel, Stephen Dearsley’s Summer Of Love, was published  on 31 October 2013. It is the story of a young fogey living in Brighton in 1967 who has a lot to learn when the flowering hippie counter culture changes him and the world around him.

The post Tonight I’m on the same bill as V. G. Lee for my first novel reading session in Brighton. appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

I’m not getting out of the house very much at the moment due to an annoying lung problem that means that I’m labouring under the influence of some particularly strong anti-biotics. So I haven’t been in to Brighton, just six miles away from my home here in Lewes, UK, and therefore I might have missed the new display at Brighton’s glittering modern library. Luckily my friend Val Ishii spotted it and sent me a photograph. It has cheered me up no end to see my new novel, Stephen Dearsley’s Summer Of Love,  there in pride of place at the library’s New Arrivals table. My thanks are due to Brighton Jubilee Library not just on my behalf but also for the main character in my novel, poor Stephen Dearsley, who spends a lot of significant time in Brighton’s old library building.

Stephen has problems with modernity and an unreconstructed admiration for Victorian architecture but I like to think he would approve of the new library building – opened in 2005 with vastly improved facilities.

http://www.brighton-hove-rpml.org.uk/Libraries/sites/Jubilee/Pages/home.aspx

Who can say though, Stephen is a strange young man.

My novel, set in 1967,  begins with Stephen’s regular morning bus journey to his bus stop near Brighton’s famous Dolphin Fountain and then his short walk round the corner to study in the local reference library. Shockingly for Stephen, on this particular morning, there is some naked frolicking going on in the water at the base of the fountain.

Stephen is less impressed by that than the solid comforts of Brighton’s old library building now exclusively given over to the Brighton Art Gallery and Museum. Stephen’s sanctuary is upstairs here in what used to be the Reference Library.

http://www.brighton-hove-rpml.org.uk/Museums/brightonmuseum/Pages/home.aspx

So it is particularly apt now that the chronicle of Stephen Dearsley’s time in Brighton Library should be on display in the library’s shiny reincarnation.

The lovely old room is still there but some ten years ago it was converted into the Brighton History Centre and then, late last year, closed down when the History Centre moved to its own modern building, to join The Keep, the brand-new archive centre for Sussex, opened in November 2013.

http://www.brighton-hove-rpml.org.uk/Museums/thekeep/Pages/home.aspx

Already The Keep is attracting much more distinguished visitors than Stephen Dearsley.

There are no plans yet for what will happen to the old reference library space upstairs at the Museum and Art Gallery but  I trust that it will find a new role for new Stephen Dearsleys and others as a cultural refuge space away from that madding crowd  that is the lively Brighton community. I suspect if Stephen does ever return to Brighton, he won’t be able to resist putting his nose inside the door to see what the room looks like now. When I was last there, the old tables and chairs had gone but the basic infrastructure had remained unchanged. Long may that be the case. Let’s preserve the old space but also celebrate Brighton’s splendid new library buildings.

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My novel, Stephen Dearsley’s Summer Of Love, was published  on 31 October 2013. It is the story of a young fogey living in Brighton in 1967 who has a lot to learn when the flowering hippie counter culture changes him and the world around him.

The post Stephen Dearsley returns to Brighton Library. appeared first on Wolfie Wolfgang.

It’s not exactly memory lane but I walked down this Brighton street the other day and it was certainly full of memories. Bloomsbury Place leads down to the sea from its Kemptown cliff top in East Brighton. This was home for me once and, as they say about old homes, a little bit of me was left behind there.

It was great living with a sea-view and a balcony to step out onto for an extra doze of ozone. I loved seeing the sea everytime I looked out of the window but the place has many other fond memories too. It was here where I finally decided to give up working in the television business and to try and make it as a writer. It is no coincidence that my first novel, published next week, is largely based in Brighton – the town I have known since I was a schoolboy.

The promenade along the top of the cliffs here in Brighton wasn’t just a pretty view from my window…

..it was my playground where I went on daily runs and, even more exciting, perilous adventures on my rollerblades. Talking to people about my book has brought back thoughts of those Brighton days and the sad day that the old house was finally sold.

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My novel, Stephen Dearsley’s Summer Of Love, is published  on 31 October 2013. It is the story of a young fogey living in Brighton in 1967 who has a lot to learn when the flowering hippie counter culture changes him and the world around him.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Stephen%20Dearsley’s%20Summer%20Of%20love

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I was standing at a bus stop in pouring rain on Saturday afternoon at the spot seen in the photograph above but on a much gloomier day.

Temporarily car-less, I timed my bus journey at a time when England has been under black clouds of unforgivingly unceasing rainfall. My wait here on saturday was a long one.

The stop is in front of one of the nation’s most well-known buildings, Brighton’s Royal Pavilion built for Prince George (1762-1830), the hopelessly profligate son of King George III who is best remembered as the Prince Regent after he took temporary charge of the throne when his father suffered bouts of insanity. At George III’s death, the Prince Regent became George IV. Prince George was a self-centred spend-thrift who was a drain on national wealth and whose father thought that money paid by the government to ease his debts was “a shameful squandering of public money to gratify the passions of an ill-advised young man.”

All these mentions of the name George reminded me of another George, our British Chancellor of the Exchequer, Mr George Osborne who is currently trying to devise ways of cutting the nation’s gigantic deficit which was incurred, in case we forget, by those profligate bankers who gambled the nation’s prosperity for their own short-term gains even though our modern George is trying to convince us that it is all about the excesses of the welfare state.

I am sure that it is unfair of me to remember Mr Osborne when thinking about the ghastly King George IV – maybe it is something about that sneer that they both have in common. Or is it their well-known weakness for champagne parties with the stinky rich?

The bloated king went unmourned to his grave and Mr Osborne, as quoted in the press today, is showing some signs of fear that he too is about to become a much hated figure. By concentrating his deficit cutting on the welfare state, he knows that he will anger a lot of people including those middle class families on over £44,000 a year who will no longer be eligible for child benefit. This seemingly odd way of rewarding the well-off with welfare benefits was introduced in the spirit of avoiding the means test and its consequent indignities and inequalities. Other spending “savings” concern the bottom strata of our society – all those people whose lives are financed by the state through unemployment, disability or other payments. This area of public spending is, of course, enormous and open, like all other schemes that involve money, including taxes, off-shore or on, company dividends and banker’s rewards, with abuse.

An ambitious new re-working of these systems of payment is about to be launched and Mr Osborne has expressed the rather optimistic hope that he can “keep the British people together as we go through this.”

Let’s go back to my bus stop in the rain outside the Prince Regent’s scandalous palace. The rain had caused “severe traffic disruption” according to the information board that notified us of all the bus cancellations. I could have caught the train back to my home town of Lewes, a fifteen minute journey, but something about this chaos drew me in. It took me three hours to get home and most of the time was spent under my umbrella with a group of aggressive people huddled together in misery.

It was midday when I arrived there and already there was an incident developing between a group of jeering teenagers with tattooed necks and spots and an angry red-faced man who was draining the remains of a beer can that he had found in the litter bin.  Not far away, an over-weight girl who could have been no older than, say, twelve, but who was dressed as a prostitute in the modern style of girl’s childhood fashions. She was shouting into her mobile phone: “What? bottom of what? bottom of what? I can’t f****ing hear you.” This continued as she boarded a bus that signalled it was going to the “Universities.” I don’t really care about swear words but it was distressing to pick up the intense aggression from this child.

Another bus arrived and a middle aged woman on crutches with a shopping bag and a bus pass ran to get on – she too muttered obscenities in her panic to get on the bus.

Then a thin young woman with an extensively pierced face,  came and stood next to me. she too was on her mobile phone and she was shouting. “When I get home, I am going to f***ing turn the place upside f***ing down until I find out who f***ing took my cigarettes this morning. If I find out who did it, I will f***ing kill them.”

The mood of angry aggression was unrelenting and I thought of those people again this morning when I read George Osborne’s words. He needs to know that there is real anger out there. Being poor, without hope and depressed is nothing to smirk about.

The new coalition government will need all of Nick Clegg’s liberalising skills and, I guess, David Cameron’s old-fashioned patrician kindliness, to temper George Osborne’s single-minded, no alternative policies of social reorganization in the guise of deficit cutting.

Maybe one of the Milliband brothers, I forget which, was right at last week’s Labour Party conference, when he said that Labour needed to end the class war not fight it. If this government can’t appeal to the most deprived, depressed and angered sections of our society, there will soon be a lot of people who will be shouting into their mobile phones? “I want to f***ing kill them!”

I was very happy, like those middle class characters in Dickens who retreat from grimy London to live happily ever after in the suburbs, when I finally got back to the gentile liberal environment of Lewes – I felt guilty about it too.

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Sometimes I wish that I didn’t listen to the radio. Yesterday morning as I was getting up on a warm sunny morning, I heard the meteorological report and the news was bleak. the tempeeratures are going to drop by mid-week and there will be more rain. The  cheery broadcasting weatherman said Autumn is about to hit England but I didn’t want to hear his words.

I was off to see my friend Adam’s new flat in Brighton and, as I drove into our local seaside city, there was not a hint of Autumn in the air – just blue skies, glistening sea and the heat of the sun.

Adam’s flat which is all guitars and computer games has a perfect Brighton view and as I sat on his balcony breathing in ozone, I fought that feeling of the end of a seaon. just give me a moment and soon I will celebrate Autumn but, for now, I want to bask in the sun.

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