Audition for Authors - SHARING TIME WITH OUR WONDERFUL DOGS

We are looking for a creative - funny ghost writer to expand upon and rewrite a series of existing charming dog centric short stories to create a complete volume of approx. 35k words composed of 40 stories in total – the brief is to make it very focussed on the dog owner and dog enthusiast market – it will be professionally illustrated and published.

To enable us to select the right writer for this we invite you to submit a two page sample based on the supplied text below – it must be humorous, well described - light and well researched with each story focussing on a breed – it’s dog behaviour and character.

Payment to cover submission f two pages max of submitted text.

SKIP.... WHO ARE YOU, AND
WHY ARE YOU HERE

‘It’s not been the greatest first day at my new school.’ I thought, as I stepped off the bus from Bake well at Ashford in the Water Post Office, and still pondering as to how it could have been a better day, I began the short walk home to The School House, my new home of only one week.
‘It’s been my dad’s first day too, at his new school’ I mused
‘I do hope that he has enjoyed it more than I have enjoyed my first day. Ah well, there is the school coming into view, and there is the school house, I shall soon know how his day has been. Better go up to my bedroom first and drop my blazer off. And actually I had better put it into the wardrobe, mother will get abated if I leave it on the floor or on the bed.’
I had only slept there six times but I was already very fond of my bedroom. Compared to the previous house it was extremely large, with a big picture window, and a view such that I could see right down to the river Wye, and then to the hills beyond. It was going to be fun heading off to explore them, especially if I could find a girl friend to go with me.
As I pushed open the garden gate, a black and white ball of fluff seemed to dart from behind the gate and then vanished under the laurel growing against the wall at the end of the garden.
I stopped dead. It was a dog.... A puppy, or so it seemed. Yes I was sure that I had seen a puppy. But who did it belong to? and how on earth had it got into the garden? The wall was five or six feet high, and the gate was completely solid, and when closed there wasn’t even a gap big enough for a mouse to squeeze underneath. How on earth had it got in.
I suddenly felt a tap on my shoulder, and I spun round. My dad was standing just behind me, and then he suddenly cried out ‘Look Robert, look there , under the laurel’
There peeping out from beneath the lowest branches, was a tiny furry black and white nose., and suddenly there was a puppy coming across the lawn towards us. T must be seeing things ‘ I thought.
, but instead of voicing my thoughts blurted out ‘It’s a puppy, a sheepdog puppy, he must be lost. Shall I try to catch him?’
Softly from behind me, dad said ‘He’s yours, his name is Skip... if you call his name he will probably come to you’
A moment later and ‘Skip’ was in my arms, and licking my face. ‘Why is he mine?’ I hardly dared to ask the question.
‘Well’ dad said, ‘Coming here is a new beginning. We all need a new beginning some times. You had problems at Warsop and at your school, and so mum and I felt that a new puppy, a new puppy for you, would give you the chance of a fresh start.’
‘The puppy is mine’ I couldn’t believe it ‘Skip is my dog. Amazing. Mine. A reward for being the worst boy in all the world. How can that be.?’
In the months before we had left Warsop, I had had a run of appalling behaviour. I had been told several times that I was the worst son in all the world. I had more than several thrashings. I had been head chorister at St Peter and St Paul’s church, but my father had sent for the Rector, and insisted that the rector demote me.’ And now. now I was being rewarded. It is a strange world.