For five days only, you can download my debut novel, Uncle Flynn, absolutely FREE from Amazon (see link below).

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Uncle-Flynn-Simon-Dillon-ebook/dp/B004HO5LYU

Here is the blurb from the back of the book:

Max Bradley is a timid eleven year old boy with many fears. But when he embarks on a hunt for buried treasure on Dartmoor with his mysterious and dangerous Uncle Flynn, Max’s life looks set to change forever.

Together they decipher clues, find a hidden map and explore secret tunnels in their search. But with both police and rival treasure hunters on their tail, Max begins to wonder if his uncle is all he seems.

A gripping and thrilling adventure for all ages, Uncle Flynn is a classic treasure hunt narrative, but it is also about overcoming fear and the dangers of mollycoddling. The novel dedicated to my eldest son, Daniel, and was largely inspired by our many expeditions on Dartmoor, as well as a bit of local history.

Here are a few reviews from various readers:

“Harking back to the wonderful adventure stories of Arthur Ransome, Uncle Flynn is a welcome return to the excitement of outdoor exploits in wild surroundings. Excitement, tension and peril combine in a well-written tale where The Goonies meets Swallows and Amazons. The evocative descriptions of treasure seeking on Dartmoor will have you longing to visit and explore for yourselves. Action-packed puzzle-solving pleasure for children and adults alike, with a neat twist in the tale to keep you guessing.”

Mrs Alice R Brewer, Amazon.co.uk

“A treasure for all ages. Kids and teenagers would love this fast-paced adventure story. Most adults would also find it a light and enjoyable read.”

B Fraley, Amazon.com

“Don’t pass this one by. I have been burning through the free NOOKbooks and this is the absolute BEST. Doesn’t matter what type of fiction you like to read, I can imagine this would capture just about anyone’s attention – and heart.”

willreadanything, Barnes and Noble.

“Could not put the book down, so enjoyed the journey. Recommended it to my 12 year old grandson who now wants me to be his book reading adviser. Loved by three generations.”

Brinney, Barnes and Noble.

“What a wonderful book for young readers and anyone else who loves a book with a great twist on an amazing story of courage over fear.”

Beansie47, Barnes and Noble.

“I’m an 83 year old woman. Your book was a joy to me. I felt I was having all the adventures myself at this ripe old age. Your book was like a cold drink of water on a hot day. Thank you.”

Joan McLaughlin, commenting on the Uncle Flynn blog.

“I downloaded the book for my boys to read, and thought I’d just read the first few lines… Needless to say I read to the end! Well written and most enjoyable – great adventure with life lessons woven into the story.”

Cecile Weyers, commenting on the Uncle Flynn blog.

Print copies can be ordered here (but unlike the download are sadly not free): http://www.lulu.com/shop/simon-dillon/uncle-flynn/paperback/product-21165126.html

The release of Mr Holmes in the UK this week provides an incredibly tenuous reason for me to write a love letter to one of my favourite novels of all time: The Hound of the Baskervilles by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

Existing almost as a spin-off compared with other Sherlock Holmes stories, it takes an interesting sidestep from crime fiction into gothic horror. Another reason it feels like a spin-off is because Holmes disappears for a vast chunk of the narrative, leaving Watson with the bulk of the investigating.

The plot – about a supposedly cursed family line stalked by a bloodthirsty hellhound – is ripping, gripping stuff. The death that sets the story in motion is vividly and terrifyingly related, as is the subsequent background of Sir Henry Baskerville’s ancestor – a “profane and godless man” who supposedly sold his soul to the devil for assistance in abducting a woman.

The text positively drips with atmosphere and intrigue, and no matter how many times I read it, I get shivers. After I first read the novel, I managed to scare myself silly by camping on Dartmoor and imagining the hound stalking around our tent in the shrieking winds. A recent late night re-reading caused me to feel slightly unsettled even now, and I had only reached the end of chapter six, which is hardly the scariest part of the tale. Here’s an excerpt from the end of said chapter:

“I drew aside my curtains before I went to bed and looked out from my window. It opened upon the grassy space which lay in front of the hall door. Beyond, two copses of trees moaned and swung in a rising wind. A half moon broke through the rifts of racing clouds. In its cold light I saw beyond the trees a broken fringe of rocks, and the long, low curve of the melancholy moor. I closed the curtain, feeling that my last impression was in keeping with the rest.

And yet it was not quite the last. I found myself weary and yet wakeful, tossing restlessly from side to side, seeking for the sleep which would not come. Far away a chiming clock struck out the quarters of the hours, but otherwise a deathly silence lay upon the old house. And then suddenly, in the very dead of the night, there came a sound to my ears, clear, resonant, and unmistakable. It was the sob of a woman, the muffled, strangling gasp of one who is torn by an uncontrollable sorrow. I sat up in bed and listened intently. The noise could not have been far away and was certainly in the house. For half an hour I waited with every nerve on the alert, but there came no other sound save the chiming clock and the rustle of the ivy on the wall.”

Anyone who has ever found it difficult to sleep in a strange house will relate to the above. As for the rest of the novel, practically every sentence oozes menace. It is a truly remarkable piece of writing.

I contend that there has not yet been a fully satisfactory film version of the novel. Some have been better than others, and one or two have come close, but all have fallen short in some way. Perhaps there simply is no way to full convey the gnawing sense of dread one gets from reading the text. For instance, the above passage where Watson is unable to sleep on his first night in Baskerville Hall somehow just doesn’t come across in the same unsettling way in any of the film versions.

The earliest version of The Hound of the Baskervilles on film is a German serial from 1914. The first British version is from 1921, and the first version with sound is from 1932. These are little remembered historical curiosities, as is the Nazi Germany 1937 version. However, the first version to really grab the audience was the 1939 take starring Basil Rathbone. It works well enough, and more or less sticks to the novel, omitting a number of elements. This version also features a censor-baiting and hilarious reference to Holmes’ drug habit in the final line.

Subsequent versions worthy of a watch include the 1959 Hammer Horror version (featuring late, greats Peter Cushing as Holmes and Christopher Lee as Sir Henry Baskerville), and a faithful TV movie version starring Jeremy Brett (whom many consider to be the definitive Holmes). Versions to avoid unfortunately include Benedict Cumberbatch take, because whilst other Holmes stories can be effectively updated to the present I don’t think The Hound of the Baskervilles can be due to the genre hopping into the gothic. I enjoy Cumberbatch’s Holmes immensely, but this one didn’t work for me.

However, nothing for me tops the prose in the original novel. It’s a truly masterful piece of work well worthy of a read, even if you’ve seen film or TV versions of the story and know the plot backwards.

What’s the single thing a writer must have in order to write? The answer will vary from writer to writer, but for me the answer is very simple: my wife, Zara.

Before I got married, I had written very little except a couple of screenplays and a few short films. I had major writing ambitions, but my quest to find a soulmate overrode all other concerns. Once that quest was fulfilled however, I suddenly found myself writing and I have barely stopped since.

It isn’t merely the presence of my wife that allows me to write. She has also been a hugely important critic of the early drafts of my work. In addition, since the death of my father (who acted as both editor and general “Eye of Sauron” in terms of scrutiny), that mantle has also passed to Zara in a somewhat spookily supernatural way.

Not only does Zara act in the above capacity, but she also puts up with my many mood swings during the writing phase – whether they be fits of “George McFly” syndrome, peculiar habits (such as getting up and writing in the middle of the night), obsessiveness, temporary insanities and so forth. She is also brilliant at calling me out on bullshit when I blow things out of proportion, and bringing the vital, much needed perspective.

Needless to say, many characters in my writing have been inspired by Zara or aspects of her. For instance, the fiercely loyal Meredith in the George Hughes novels is unquestionably a version of her. Suzie, a peripheral but important character in Children of the Folded Valley, is also very much Zara. She also crops up in other as yet unpublished works – including a major fantasy epic I have been working on for years – in various guises.

I know this all sounds a little nauseating (you may vomit if you wish), but it really is true that without Zara I wouldn’t be writing at all. I would still be on a quest, looking for her.

My new novel Love vs Honour can now be ordered in print from Amazon Create Space (see link below) for those who prefer hard copies to downloads.

AMAZON LINK (Print)

Love vs Honour is also available for download from Amazon Kindle:

AMAZON LINK (Download)

Love vs Honour is a young adult romantic drama, but it will also be appreciated by grown-up readers, or anyone who enjoys a gripping, provocative story.

Here is the blurb from the back of the book:

Two Religions. Two Deceptions. One Love.

When Johnny meets and falls in love with Sabina, their bond proves stronger than a teenage holiday fling.

Fearing the disapproval of their strict Christian and Islamic families, they undertake an elaborate deception to continue seeing one another. Johnny pretends to convert to Islam whilst Sabina pretends to covert to Christianity to appease their parents. 

But how long can this deception last before it unravels?