Shadows under a dipping sun - is a contemporary coming-of-age psychedelic odyssey centred around two young teenagers off the Church Rd estate locked out of a house party in Tottenham. Who, without money or means to get home, make what turns out to be a bizarre trip across London to Harlesden on foot - meeting some of the capital's weird, funny, wonderful, and at times dangerous inhabitants along the way. 

I am looking for representation for this book. If anyone reading this is an agent or knows an agent looking for a new project, message me through my contact page >here<. Thanks! 


#psychedelicfiction #Comingofagefiction #Newbook #Booksbasedinlondon #Fiction #BizzareFiction #Dramafiction 
#odyssey #Books #Lovebooks #Lovefiction #Litrature #Read #readers #Page #Kindle #Climax 

"Look – I know she killed that man. I don't know how, but I know she did. At least look at the text messages." Frank argued. 
Frank held a folder containing transcripts from Shelley Lank's phone and emails. A back and forth between her and the man she was now spending her dead husband's money with.
Creed paused for a few seconds, sighed, and then took the folder, pushing his lunch to one side. He pulled out the transcripts. Frank stood over Creed, hands palm-down on his desk. Creed shifted through a few pages. He leaned back in his chair, his hands braided behind his bald head.
"Well?" Frank asked. 
"Well, it appears she was fucking Ranjit while she was married to the deceased," Creed responded.
Frank's eyelids fluttered, his mouth agape. He let out a small laugh.
​ "You think?" He replied.
Creed handed the folder back to Frank, then pulled his lunch back towards him.
"It's open-and-shut mate. Old boy marries young tail, young tail marries for money, and makes sure the last years of his life are spectacular. When he pops his clogs, she gets all the pinkies. Seen it a thousand times, a tale as old as the sea. Now please let me finish my lunch – my kids are calling in five minutes, and I have to appear marginally interested." Creed said. 
Frank shook his head. "You obviously didn't read the part where Ranjit asks her how long she reckons he has," Frank replied. 
Creed bit down into his veggie patty. "So what?" He responded.
"Motive, Creed, motive!

Here we offer a fantastic opportunity to own part of my literary journey. At my request, Anna Gubina (the commissioned artist) has compiled a storyboard of the concepts explored in the creative process to develop the cover art for my new 3-part novel, "The SWEAT". After two weeks of deliberation, we settled on the images to the left (You can see the final image here). The file dimensions are Width 5347 x Height 2952 (High definition), so the image can be easily printed and framed. As you can see, I have digitally signed it. You will own the only copy in existence. The artwork will be put up for auction as an NFT on the 22nd of December 2021. Don't miss out on this unique opportunity to own an NFT of this kind. For more details and to keep up to date with the auction, Follow me on Instagram: @Rpfalconer
Follow me on twitter: @Rpfalconer
Stay up-to-date with my blog by joining my mailing list >Here<
Check out my books here: Amazon  

After three designers, a head full of ideas and concepts, I finally have my book cover for 'THE SWEAT'. 

'THE SWEAT' is a post-apocalyptic drama and is the first book in a three-part series, which follows the journey of a black British family, doing all they can to survive a violence-inducing illness, rapidly spreading within London.

THE SWEAT - seeks to break the mould and add something new to the survival genre by being told mainly from the perspective of a black father and his daughter. In part, the story aims to explore how greed, cannibalism, overt discrimination, bigotry and open sexual exploitation could rapidly become the norm in a once civilised, first-world nation, where social-judicial filters, guidance and deterrents cease to exist. 

The book includes the concept of sudden homelessness. As a result, 10% of all profits from the book will go to Brixton soup kitchen who do amazing things for people in need. 

THE SWEAT is in the last stages of edit and should be out by late December early January. 

Follow me on Instagram: @Rpfalconer
Follow me on twitter: @Rpfalconer
Stay up-to-date with my blog by joining my mailing list >Here<
Check out my books here: Amazon  ​

When you think you’ve booked a trip to Austria and arrive at Oslo’s Gardermoen Airport, you know your journey has been planned by a man who hasn’t planned at all. 
“You keep going on about Austria - you know we’re in Norway, right?” My wife said.
I threw her a patronising glance from over hunched shoulders as I pushed our luggage through arrivals.
“Ermmm, think I know where I booked Kris….” I replied.  
She laughed, and I looked over at her again. 
“The pictures you showed me were of Innsbruck Austria, this Gardermoen in Oslo”, My wife affirmed.
I slowed to a stop and shook my head, tutting, “Do you know how ridiculous you’re about to look - Oslo is in Austria.” I said, searching the airport for evidence to back me up. I looked around, then down at the ticket stubs - then at the flags dotted around, and finally back at Kris.
“Shit - I could have sworn Oslo was in Austria?” I remarked.

So apparently, I’m an actor now? (He says, his wife rolling her eyes). No, seriously, I just filmed two promo videos featuring none other than moi. The promo videos were made for a new novel I am close to releasing called ‘THE SWEAT’. THE SWEAT - is the first book in a three-part series following a Black British family doing all they can to survive a nationwide infection that transforms everyday people into mindful murderers. ‘THE SWEAT’ strives to add something new to the survival genre by being told mainly from the perspective of a Black female protagonist. The story seeks to explore how easily savagery, cannibalism, racism, bigotry, and open sexual exploitation could rapidly manifest - in a once civilised, first-world nation - where social-judicial filters, guidance and deterrents cease to exist. 

​Click here >>HERE<< to stay up-to-date with THE SWEAT's progress

Watch my two promo videos below -  featuring the wonderful
Horaios, keep up-to date with her on instagram @Miss_unique_individual   

                                                                    
​RP: Guys who’s up for uh drink next week Saturday?
 
Shane: Which day bro?
 
RP: Saturday.
 
                                                                          Prince is typing….
 
Carl: [Inserts inspirational meme with the twinkling flowers]
 
Ricardo: Let me check my cazendar.
 
Ricardo: *Calendar
 
Prince: Why not. Where and what time?
 
                                                                             RP is typing….
 
Shane: Do you mean this coming Saturday or next?
 
RP: This coming Saturday.
 
Shane: As in the 5th?
 
Jay: [Inserts smiling emoji with sunglasses on]
 
RP: Yeah the 5th.
 
RP: @Prince Thinking Westfield, Busabi?  
 
Helen: I don’t like Chinese.
 
RP: @Jay is that a yes or a no?
 
Ricardo: Oh, you meant this Saturday.
 
Corey: Sounds good.
 
Carl: [Inserts inspirational meme about Jesus]
 
Prince: It’s Thai.
 
Jay: Is that the place we went to last time?
 
RP: Nah, that was Wagamama.
 
Helen: @Prince Whatever it is, I didn’t like it.
 
RP: @Helen are you on coming out at all? we can look at other places.
 
Helen: No, I can’t make it.
 
RP: SMH…

Prince: [Inserts Gif of Drew Scanlon the white guy blinking]
 

AK-47 or White widow? Shane asked, grinning as he pointed at a menu as if either one of us had any business dabbling in strong marijuana. We could barely handle cigarettes, let alone smoke anyone of those strains of weed, that sounded more at home on an MI5 terrorist watch list than in rolling papers. We eventually requested the weakest space cake they had and left to take in the rest of De Wallen.  

Eight of us were in Holland for the Rotterdam carnival. As part of our package, we had a day trip to Amsterdam scheduled, and my O-my was it going to be a trip (pardon the pun) that none of us will ever forget. Getting high didn’t appeal to Missy, Prince and Helen, so we (Shane, Ricardo, Carl, Jay and I) decided to split our group in two and meet back at the coach at the end of the day.  

Now let it be known that De Wallen (where the red light district is situated) is a small enclave of Amsterdam and is probably one of the craziest sections of any city worldwide. With women in windows and weed, the word ‘liberal’ doesn’t do it justice at all. Suppose De Wallen were a bike rolling down a hill, it’d be brake-less, without a seat, stabilisers, or wheels - just uh rickety old frame trundling at full speed into those fiendish red lights below. 

Anywho, we had a good laugh throughout the day and were on the way back to the coach. Jay and I were deliberating on how the “weak space cake” was a little too weak. Unsatisfied: we happened upon, and decided to stop off at the most stereotypical edible peddlers I had seen there. So there’s five of us squeezed-up in this weed takeaway shop, plastic inflatable palm trees everywhere, reggae beating over the speakers.
The guys behind the counter wore red, gold and green string vests and had locs. In true British fashion, I began small talk. I assumed they were Jamaican, and with me being of Jamaican heritage, I asked where in Jamaica they were from.

​They both answered ‘Barbados’. ‘Oh’, I replied - Now here’s where Carl swears I had doomed our expedition, fore I went on to state - “So you guys aren’t real, Rastas then?” Carl reckons that on account of my faux pas, the brother going to get our order from the cabinet stopped in his tracks and looked back at me in complete disdain before selecting an entirely different batch of space muffins to those requested. Anyway, we paid and left. Carl, Shane and Ricardo had walked up ahead, opened their muffins, and ate them whole. 

Decided i'd drag my ass into this century and have a trailer made for my book.  BIG props to our actress Olivia Murray - 100% pure unrefined talent. Enjoy, share, comment.