John Robert Seeley

Born and raised in the former Socialist Republic of South Yorkshire, whose glory shall never fade. A working class grammar schoolboy never quite sure of his place in the brave new world of the 1960s. The cat who walked by himself through corridors haunted by the prodigious shade of old boy Ted Hughes, an anonymous part of a génération perdue in waiting.

Always wanted to be a writer so spent many years doing anything but writing – which lets face it is bloody hard! Worked as a sales assistant in a furniture shop and as a surveyor, until they found out he can’t draw, then got a degree and qualified as a teacher but gave it up when his request for a gun was turned down.

Following the script for would-be writers he subsequently explored many other dead end options, eventually ending up mucking out stables at a local bloodstock agency. Moved on and up to work in local government, well a shift from shovelling horse**** to shovelling bull**** is progress of a kind.. Finally got to work with books as a career when he joined the library service and simultaneously became a publisher’s reader for a major publisher, thanks to the kindness of the late, great Reginald Hill who was a great influence and inspiration to me. Still, spending large chunks of my time buying and reading books by other people didn’t leave him with much energy or inclination to work on my own writing, despite the fact that my daily grind was the intellectual equivalent of being poked in the eye with a sharp stick.

Took early retirement,- though not early enough for his liking! - and finally got around to testing out his theory that he could write well. After four, soon to be six self-published novels he’s convinced himself or he wouldn’t keep doing it. Or maybe he would. If it’s in the blood there’s nothing much you can do about it. Blood will out as they say.