S.A.A. Calvert

Steph Calvert is the name. I live in Surrey, in the area of the Sussex Border stories, so the location and local flavour is there every time I open my door. I am, at the time of writing in 2013, 55 years of age and still cycling everywhere. I do speak the languages I use in the books.

My stories tend to include music of one kind or another, and it is music I know and love. The performances described in my books may not have happened in the places and at the times I describe, but they are all real accounts of my own place in the audience. I mean no disrespect to any of the real-life persons I describe, and I rather believe that is obvious from the descriptions I give.

Jimmy Kerr isn't real. Well, he sort of IS, just not under that name.

I should also add that I am definitely not religious, but am told I write a good sermon. There are some in my books; see what you think. The stories are tied together by one central, brutal event, and I have not minimised the horror and pain it brings. I write about depression, suicide, post-traumatic stress disorder, but also love, acceptance, family. Being alive gives one more choices than being dead, so I do my best to celebrate life, in as real a world as I can create.

The cover pictures are all my own, and are of course copyright to me.

I am not a computer whizz, and as will be obvious I work without an editor or proof-reader. A little reflection on my chosen subject matter should give the reasons, but the typos and cut/paste errors are, I hope, minor things. In one case, you receive the free gift of an entire spare chapter, just in case the first one gets lost.

Please be gentle with my children.

I am adding a comment to the people who have been stealing my books and offering PDF downloads through 'wordpress'. I note that the good people of that site have been suspending your accounts. It's called theft. It is not only illegal, it is rude.

For those with better manners, drop in at my Facebook page, S.A.A. Calvert.

A new theme this year (2023) is the result of organised transphobia. A few odd and obsessed bigots found my first book, decided it was some odd work os sexual fetishism (yes, really!) and called for their winged monkeys to leave a swathe of negative ratings. As I type this, their huge numbers of supporters have delivered one solitary anonymous one-star review. Sums them up, in all honesty.

If you read my work, you will find a focus on family and friendship, love and life. I feel sorry for those who lack the soul, the humanity, to share in that joy. Bigotry rots both the mind and the soul.