I’m Ryan Mayo—former Royal Artillery Gunner (’90–’96, passed P Company), author of The Lost Hero, and co-host of the Two Paths podcast. I write with grit and heart about service, family, and what resilience really looks like—on the battlefield and at home. I’m passionate about giving veterans a voice and keeping remembrance alive for the next generation. Off-mic and off-page, I mentor frontline teams on the railway and spend time with my ever-growing family.
There’s something magical about this time of year. We haven’t even reached Christmas Day yet, but you can feel it in the air – that mix of excitement, nostalgia, and pure festive chaos.
The office parties start first.
Suddenly, the people you normally only talk spreadsheets and deadlines with are in Christmas jumpers, passing round sausage rolls and terrible cracker jokes. For a few hours we all relax a bit, laugh a bit louder, and remember that behind the job titles, we’re just people trying to enjoy ourselves and make it to the Christmas break in one piece.
Then there’s the gift hunting.
Lists get written, rewritten, and then completely ignored when you spot something “perfect” on a shelf and think, Yep, that’s them. There’s real joy in choosing presents for the people we love – partners, kids, grandkids, parents, friends. It’s not really about how much we spend, but about knowing someone well enough to find something that’ll make them smile.
(And yes, I’ll admit it… I’ve already eaten more than my fair share of mince pies and it’s not even Christmas week yet. No regrets. 😅)
One of the things I love most about this season is how different traditions are around the world.
I recently learned that in Japan, Christmas Day is often celebrated with… fried chicken! Thanks to a clever KFC advertising campaign in the 1970s, it became a huge thing, and now it’s tradition for families to order a big bucket of chicken for Christmas. No turkey, no pigs in blankets – just crispy fried chicken and a lot of happy faces. I absolutely love that. It’s a reminder that Christmas isn’t about doing it “the right way”, it’s about doing it your way.
For many of us, Christmas Day itself is all about the classics:
A proper roast dinner with all the trimmings Crackers and paper crowns that never quite fit The rustle of wrapping paper and the genuine “You shouldn’t have!” moments Decorations that have been in the family for years, each one holding a little story
But beyond the food and the presents, there’s something else that really stands out at this time of year: people just seem… kinder.
Strangers say “Merry Christmas” in the street. Workmates check in on each other. Friends and family make that extra bit of effort to meet up, phone, message, or send a card. For a few weeks, life feels a little softer around the edges. And that, more than anything, brings joy to my heart.
As we build up to Christmas Day, I’m trying to savour these little moments:
The lights in the windows.
The smell of mince pies.
The terrible Christmas songs we all secretly love.
And the chance to spend time with the people who matter.
However you celebrate 🥳 whether it’s turkey and crackers, or fried chicken in front of the telly 📺 I hope this festive season brings you warmth, laughter, and time with those you love. ❤️
What are your Christmas traditions?
Do you have any quirky family habits, secret recipes, or unusual ways of celebrating? I’d love to hear them – drop a comment and share a bit of your festive world.
I’m just a normal fella with a moral compass that usually points in the honourable direction. And when it doesn’t, I give it a quick tap like an old satnav and tell myself, “Right… re-route, mate.”
Because let’s be honest — I’m not walking around with a halo. If I did, it would probably be wonky, and I’d bang it on a doorframe within five minutes.
But I do try. I genuinely try. And I think we’re allowed to say that sometimes without feeling like we’ve turned into the main character of a motivational quote on Facebook.
The Moral Compass (And Why It Matters)
I’ve always believed in doing the right thing. Not because I’m some kind of righteous angel… more because I’m allergic to being a wrong’un. And I’ve met a few in my time — you can spot them a mile off.
Honour isn’t about being perfect. It’s about trying to do right when nobody’s watching. It’s about keeping your word. Owning your mistakes. Showing up. And not being the sort of person people warn others about in group chats.
And I’m not saying I’ve nailed it every day of my life. I’ve had my moments. I’ve had my “Ryan, what are you doing?” moments. But the compass is there, and I do my best to follow it — even when it would be easier to do the opposite.
Comfort Zones Are Lovely… But Nothing Grows There
I’m always looking to improve my skills and knowledge. Always learning. Always trying to level up.
I take risks. I step outside my comfort zone. I do things that scare me a bit — because if you don’t, you end up living the same week on repeat like a microwave meal: warm, beige, and mildly disappointing.
Now don’t get me wrong — I’m not out here free-solo climbing cliffs or wrestling bears. My “living on the edge” is more like starting new projects, pushing myself, trying stuff I haven’t done before, and occasionally realising halfway through:
“Yeah… I may have overestimated myself here.”
But that’s life, isn’t it? You learn, you adapt, you crack on.
Under the Radar… Until Now
I’ve always been under the radar. Head down, don’t blow my trumpet, don’t make a fuss.
Mainly because if I blew my own trumpet, I’d probably pull a hamstring and end up needing a physio and a cup of tea.
But lately, I’ve started sharing more of what I do — writing, volunteering, charity stuff — and I’ll be honest, it’s made me feel a bit… weird. Like:
“Am I starting to sound narcissistic here?”
Because the last thing I want is to become one of those people who posts:
“Just helped an old lady cross the road. #Blessed #Hero”
Calm down, Gandhi.
But then I’ve realised something important:
There’s a difference between being arrogant and simply acknowledging your effort.
Arrogance is: “Look at me, I’m amazing.”
Acknowledgement is: “I’m trying. I care. I’m putting the work in.”
And if you don’t recognise your own effort, you’ll spend your life downplaying everything until one day you’ve done loads — and still feel like you’ve done nothing.
Charities, Volunteering, and Doing My Bit (Without the Violins)
Over the years, I’ve raised money for charities like Help for Heroes. I’ve ridden my bike for the British Heart Foundation and VVS. I’ve volunteered with Blind Veterans. I’ve given my time as an Army Cadet instructor.
And no, I’m not saying that so you clap and tell me I’m wonderful. Please don’t. I’d get awkward, shuffle my feet, and immediately try to change the subject.
I’m saying it because it’s part of who I am.
I’ve always believed if you’re able to help, you help. If you can give your time, you give it. If you can show up, you show up.
And truthfully? Some of the best moments are the simple ones.
A proper laugh with someone who’s been through it.
A brew and a chat that lifts someone’s mood.
A moment where you realise, quietly: “Yeah… this matters.”
That’s the good stuff. Not applause. Not attention. Just meaning.
Writing Fiction (Because Therapy Is Expensive)
Now I’m writing fiction novels — and I’m incorporating bits of my life into them.
Not because I think my life is some cinematic masterpiece. If my life was a film, half of it would be me walking into rooms and forgetting why I went in there. The other half would be me trying to find my glasses while they’re on my head.
But real life gives stories weight. It gives characters authenticity. It gives you emotions you can actually write from instead of guessing.
Writing is creative. It’s challenging. It’s exciting. And it’s terrifying sometimes — because when you put your work out there, you’re basically saying:
“Here. Judge this thing I made.”
And that’s a bit vulnerable, isn’t it?
But I’m doing it anyway. Because I’d rather be brave and slightly embarrassed than safe and stuck.
Praising Yourself Without Turning Into a Bellend
So how do you praise yourself without it becoming “look at me”?
Here’s my approach — and trust me, this is from a man who cringes at his own compliments.
1) Take the mick out of yourself.
Because if you can’t laugh at yourself, someone else will do it for you. And they’ll enjoy it more.
2) Keep it grounded in actions.
Not “I’m amazing,” but “I’m trying. I’m learning. I’m showing up.”
3) Admit you’re not perfect.
I’m not. I’m human. I mess up. I get it wrong. I have off days. I have days where my “moral compass” is more like a fridge magnet that’s slipped down the door.
4) Make purpose the headline.
If sharing your journey inspires someone else to help, to grow, to start, to try — then it’s not vanity. It’s usefulness.
Final Thoughts
I’m no saint.
But I’m not a sinner either.
I’m just a bloke trying to live with honour, improve myself, help where I can, and create something meaningful — while also taking the mick out of myself enough to stay grounded.
So if you’re reading this and you’re like me — quietly grafting, quietly caring, quietly showing up — here’s your reminder:
You don’t need to brag.
You don’t need to shout.
But you are allowed to acknowledge the good you’ve done.
When I first sat down to write The Lost Hero, I knew it wasn’t going to be a one-off story.
The Clarke family has grown into something much bigger: a full Clarke Legacy series spanning generations — William, David, Michael and the final legacy that ties everything together. That means I now have three or four books on the go at the same time, all weaving in and out of each other.
Sounds mad? It can feel like it. But it also makes a lot of sense.
Juggling Multiple Books at Once
Right now I’m:
Putting the finishing touches on Faultline – Ghost in the Woods Planning and shaping David’s story Laying the groundwork for Michael’s story Thinking ahead to the final Clarke Legacy book that will bring all those threads together
The challenge is making sure:
The timelines match The characters grow consistently The events in one book line up with what’s hinted at or remembered in the others
David’s past, Michael’s journey, William’s memories — they all overlap in places, even when the books are set years apart. That’s where it gets complex, but also where it gets exciting.
Continuity, Timelines and Flow
Working on these books so closely together actually helps keep things tighter and more believable.
Because I’m deep in the Clarke universe every day, it’s easier to:
Remember who was where and when Make sure that small details (injuries, medals, relationships, locations) stay consistent Plant subtle hints in one book that will pay off later in another
A lot of writers do something similar: they map out the whole series in their heads (and notebooks!) before they start properly writing. Characters, arcs, major events, even the endings of future books are already sketched out.
I’ve found my own version of that. I’ve got:
Storylines ready Chapters roughly mapped Emotional beats planned across the whole series
So even when I’m focused on Faultline, I’m already thinking, “How will this hit David?” or “What will Michael carry from this into his own book?”
The Clarke Legacy Going Forward
So where are we now?
The Lost Hero – available now, telling William’s story and the cost of a life spent in service. Faultline – Ghost in the Woods – nearly ready to publish, pushing the next stage of the Clarke world forward. David’s story – charting his time in the forces and the difficult emotions of being medically discharged. Michael’s story – another generation of service, conflict and silence between father and son. And then… the final Legacy book, bringing all their stories, scars and triumphs together.
It’s a big project, but it feels right. This family deserves the full arc.
Upcoming Book Signings
I’ve also got some events lined up where you can come and say hello, grab a signed copy and have a chat:
📍 Thomas A Becket, Worthing
Date: Saturday 31st January 2026 Time: 19:00–21:00hrs Where: The snug area.
That pub is a big part of my own story – I was the manager there from 2004 to 2011 – so going back for a book signing feels like bringing things full circle.
I’m also currently in talks with The Quill café bar in Rustington about arranging a local book signing in the New Year. Once the date and time are confirmed, I’ll share all the details here and on Facebook.
Signed Copies Before Christmas
A quick reminder:
The Lost Hero is still available to buy directly from me.
If you’d like a signed copy (or a few as Christmas presents):
Drop me a personal message I can sign, dedicate and post them out Ideal if you want something personal and meaningful for someone who loves military fiction, family stories, or anything to do with veterans and service
The Clarke Legacy is only just getting started, and I’m excited to bring you along for the journey — book by book, generation by generation.
Some weeks just blur into one long shift. Others stand out because they remind you exactly why you’re doing what you’re doing.
Last week was one of those – a mix of book promotion, veterans’ events, hospital appointments, family time, and even a bit of football thrown in for good measure. It left me tired, sore… but very grateful.
Friday: Gearing Up for Care for Veterans
My week really started on Friday, getting ready for the Care for Veterans Christmas fayre.
The kitchen table turned into a mini print shop – designing and printing posters, sorting decorations, and counting copies of The Lost Hero to take with me. I wanted the table to feel welcoming, a mix of military pride and Christmas warmth.
Then there was the important question: what to wear.
I settled on smart but casual:
Nice shirt Jeans Tweed blue-grey jacket
Comfortable enough to stand and chat all day, but smart enough to show I was taking the event – and the people there – seriously.
Saturday: Care for Veterans Christmas Fayre
Saturday was the big one.
I arrived at Care for Veterans around 10:30 to set up, ready for guests arriving from late morning. Books laid out, posters up, table dressed, nerves kicking in (as they always do) but with that little buzz of excitement too.
I shared the table with Sid and Ron, two fellow veterans – one Army, one RAF, and Ron also an ex-Gunner from his younger days. Proper gents. We swapped stories, laughed a lot, and there was that unspoken understanding that only comes from shared service.
At one point, the Mayor of Worthing came over and spent real time talking with me about the book. She was genuinely engaged, asked questions, and even helped promote The Lost Hero on her Facebook page afterwards, which was a lovely boost.
By the end of the day I’d:
Met a steady stream of veterans, families, and local residents Signed and sold 14 copies of the book Talked about service, memory, and family with people who really “got it”
It wasn’t just about sales – it was about connection and community. Exactly the sort of day I’d hoped it would be.
Back home that evening, I decompressed the old-fashioned way: a few chilled beers, feet up, while my wife headed off to work her hospital shift. Different uniforms, different roles – but the same idea of service.
Sunday: A Much-Needed Pause
After all that, Sunday was deliberately quiet.
A slow dog walk in the park, letting the fresh air and simple routine do its thing. Later, a movie on the TV, then an evening with my head in a book while my wife caught up with Strictly Come Dancing.
Nothing dramatic. Just a normal, peaceful Sunday – and I think I needed that more than I realised.
Monday: Hospitals and Hard Truths
Monday brought me back down to earth with a bump.
I had a hospital appointment to chase up my MRI results on my back. I’ve been living with pain and stiffness for a while now, but it’s different when you see it on a screen and hear the words out loud.
Turns out my L3 and L5 are disintegrating, causing inflammation in my lower back. There are still more tests to be done, and rheumatology have now been brought in to look at my scans and blood work in more detail.
It’s not the easiest thing to hear, but it’s also strangely clarifying. You realise:
You’re not invincible (however much your 20-year-old self would argue otherwise) The years of soldiering, working, and just cracking on don’t come free Looking after yourself now isn’t a luxury – it’s a necessity
I walked out of the hospital with mixed feelings: a bit worried, yes, but also grateful that things are being investigated properly. Getting answers is better than endlessly guessing.
Tuesday: Veterans, Blind Veterans, and a Football Book Launch
If Monday was medical, Tuesday was full-on social.
It started simply enough – another dog walk in the morning to clear my head and loosen the back. Then it was time to get suited and booted for a veterans’ luncheon at The Orchid House in Worthing.
The luncheon brought together fellow veterans and Worthing dignitaries. It was a brilliant opportunity to:
Meet new people Reconnect with familiar faces Talk about The Lost Hero and what it represents
Again, it wasn’t just about the book – it was about shared experiences, stories, and the quiet pride that runs through the veteran community.
After lunch it was home for a quick change, then straight out again – this time to the Blind Veterans Association.
There I helped wrap Christmas presents and gave a short talk on Christmas traditions around the world. A lovely mix of practical help and storytelling, and a reminder that even small gestures – a wrapped gift, a shared laugh, a familiar tradition – can mean a lot.
Then, back home, quick refuel… and out again in the evening.
This time it was to support a fellow writer, Ian Hart, at his new book “From every angle” being released. Ian is an Albion supporter, radio presenter, and editor of the Gulls Eye fanzine, so the room had a strong Brighton & Hove Albion flavour.
My little corner of the Xmas FayreMe at the Care for Veterans Xmas event Joining Ian Hart releasing his book “From every Angle.” Me and my brother Kerry (bottom right)Meeting the mayor of Worthing Cllr Cathy Glynn-Davies
The event was attended by my brother Kerry (who played for Brighton during the tough years) and Guy Butters, ex-Albion and Tottenham. It was a cracking evening – books, football, and stories all rolled into one.
I even managed to drag my wife along, despite the fact she doesn’t enjoy football in the slightest. 😂 Bless her for coming along anyway and supporting me. That’s love.
Looking Back: A Full Week, A Full Heart
By the end of it all, I was knackered.
But when I look back at the week, I see:
Veterans supported Books signed, sold, and shared New connections made – with readers, mayors, fellow authors, and old comrades Health questions faced head-on Time with my wife, my dogs, and my community
It’s a reminder that life isn’t just one thing. It’s hospital corridors and Christmas fayres. It’s back pain and belly laughs. It’s book signings, football fanzines, and wrapping presents for people who can’t see the lights but can still feel the warmth.
If you’ve made it this far – thank you for reading.
If you’ve picked up The Lost Hero – thank you for trusting me with your time.
And if you see me at a veterans’ event, book signing, or wandering around Worthing with two dogs and a slightly dodgy back – come and say hello.
I’ve had a great day at the care for veterans Xmas 🎄 fayre.
I meet some amazing guests, staff and fellow veterans. Also had a wonderful chat with Cllr Cathy Glynn-Davies. The mayor of Worthing. As well as Sid and Rob. Veterans of Worthing association.
I do however have a few copies 📖 of “the Lost Hero” left over, so if you wish to purchase a copy (signed of course!) let me know via email
Perfect gift for someone this Xmas 🎄
£12.95 per copy and 25% of each copy goes to Veterans charities.
And had a lot of positive comments about my shirt 😂
Or click on the QR code for link to Amazon bookstore
For today’s blog, I want to introduce you properly to the two men at the centre of The Lost Hero – William Clarke and his son Michael.
They’re fictional, but they carry pieces of a lot of real people: veterans I’ve known, families I’ve met, and bits of my own experiences along the way. If you’ve been thinking about picking up the book (or you’ve started it and want a bit more background), this one’s for you.
William Clarke – The Soldier Father
William is the original “lost hero” of the story.
He’s a Paratrooper, part of that generation of soldiers who came home, got on with life, and rarely talked in detail about what they’d seen or done. Not because they didn’t feel it – but because that’s just what you did. You cracked on.
A few things define William:
Duty first, self second – He’s the sort of man who puts his mates, his family and the job in front of his own comfort or safety. Quiet, steady strength – He’s not a Hollywood action hero. No speeches, no drama. He’s a bloke who does what needs doing and carries the weight afterwards in silence. Haunted, but not broken – His memories of war never leave him. They sit in the background of his life: in the way he looks at the world, the way he parents, the way he tries (and sometimes fails) to open up to those he loves.
William’s story in The Lost Hero comes to us through his own words – his memoirs and recollections – and through how others remember him. We see him as:
A young soldier in the chaos of conflict A husband and father trying to balance the Army with family life A man carrying guilt, grief and pride all mixed together
He represents a whole generation of veterans whose stories were never fully told.
Michael Clarke – The Son Left With the Echoes
If William is the echo of the past, Michael is the voice of the present.
Michael is William’s son – a man trying to understand his father, long after the parade ground has fallen silent and the medals have been put in a box.
Where William is closed-off and old-school, Michael is:
Curious and searching – He wants answers. About his dad, his family history, and what war really did to the man he grew up with. Caught between pride and pain – He’s proud of his father’s service, but he’s also honest about the emotional distance it created at home. Love mixed with frustration, respect mixed with unanswered questions. Dealing with modern pressures – Work, family, the constant noise of the modern world – and on top of that, the weight of a legacy he doesn’t fully understand.
But Michael isn’t just looking at his father’s past from a comfortable distance.
He understands far more about pressure, responsibility and fear than he lets on.
He has walked his own hard path, shouldered his own burdens, and made choices that have left their own marks. That shared, unspoken understanding between him and William is part of what makes their relationship so complicated.
Despite all the silence, Michael is still proud to have followed in his father’s footsteps – not necessarily in the exact same way, but in spirit: living up to the example of courage, loyalty and duty that William set, even when it came at a cost.
When Michael starts reading William’s story, it isn’t just about military history. It’s about:
A son rebuilding his picture of who his father truly was Discovering the reasons behind the silences, the moods, the unspoken things Deciding what kind of man he wants to be, carrying that legacy forward
Through Michael, we see how the impact of war doesn’t end when the guns fall silent – it carries on through generations.
Why Their Story Matters
At its core, The Lost Hero is about more than battles and campaigns. It’s about:
Fathers and sons What service asks of a family, not just a soldier The damage, courage and love that sit quietly behind the word “veteran”
William represents the men who went, did the job, and rarely spoke about it.
Michael represents the children of that generation – trying to make sense of what was never said, and feeling the weight of that legacy in their own lives.
Two men, bound by blood and by experiences they struggle to talk about.
If you decide to read The Lost Hero, my hope is that you don’t just see uniforms and operations – you see people. Flawed, brave, stubborn, loving, and human.
Thanks for reading, and for walking alongside William and Michael on this journey.
If you’ve already met them in the book, I’d love to know in the comments:
Which of the two do you relate to more – William or Michael, and why?
The alarm went off at 05:30 this morning and, I’ll be honest, my brain filed an official complaint.
I am not a morning person. At all.
If there was a medal for “Most Confused Human Before 07:00”, I’d be on the honours list. 😅
So today’s survival plan is simple:
Step 1: Coffee
Step 2: More coffee
Step 3: Remember what day it is
But somewhere between early shifts, real life, and a slightly fried brain, the stories are still ticking away in the background.
For those who are new here – welcome 👋
I’m Ryan, a veteran and the author of The Lost Hero, a story about the Clarke family, service, sacrifice and the echoes war leaves behind. It’s been an incredible journey getting this book out into the world and sharing it with readers, especially fellow veterans and their families.
Right now, I’m also deep into writing the next book in the series:
📖 Faultline – Ghost in the Woods
This one follows Sarah Clarke in a modern, darker, behind-enemy-lines thriller – tangled loyalties, shadowy enemies and the ghosts we carry with us from past operations.
Between work, writing, and the occasional 05:30 existential crisis, your support really does mean the world.
If you enjoy my blogs and posts, it would be a massive help if you could:
Share this blog with a friend who loves military fiction or real veteran stories Invite people to follow my Facebook page if you think they’d enjoy the journey Leave a comment and let me know where you’re reading from (and what time your alarm went off this morning!)
Right – time for another coffee before my brain stages a mutiny.
Thanks for being here, for reading, and for walking this path with me.
There’s a big difference between wanting to write a book and needing to write one.
The Lost Hero sits firmly in the second camp.
I didn’t wake up one morning and decide, out of nowhere, “I’m going to be an author.” The story grew out of years of lived experience – service, friendships, loss, and watching the slow, painful impact of age and illness on people I care about.
A Veteran Writing About Veterans
I served in the British Army, and like a lot of veterans, I came away with more than just memories. You carry things with you – smells, sounds, faces, split-second decisions that never really leave.
Over the years I’ve spent time with other veterans, some my age, some much older. I’ve sat in cafés, at breakfast clubs and in care homes listening to men in their 80s and 90s talk about things they’ve never told their families in full. A joke here, a dark memory there, a pause that says more than any sentence could.
Those conversations were a big part of the reason this book exists. I didn’t want those echoes to disappear completely.
Living With Dementia in the Family
Another driving force behind The Lost Hero was dementia.
If you’ve been through it with a loved one, you’ll know: it’s a cruel disease. You lose someone twice – once in their mind, and then again when their body finally lets go. You cling to flashes of the person they were, even as they slip away in front of you.
William Clarke, the elderly veteran in the story, is shaped by that reality. He’s a man whose past is still vivid, but whose present is fragile. Some days he’s back in uniform in his own head. Some days he barely knows who’s in the room.
Writing William was painful at times, but it felt important. I wanted to show the long shadow of war and illness – not just on the person going through it, but on the family desperately trying to hold everything together around them.
Honouring the Invisible Heroes
When we talk about “heroes”, we usually picture the ones in uniform. But the more time I’ve spent with veterans and their families, the more I’ve realised how many other kinds of bravery exist quietly in the background.
That’s why The Lost Hero isn’t just about soldiers.
It’s about:
Partners pacing the floor, waiting for news. Sons and daughters trying to understand a parent who came back… but never quite came home. Carers in care homes who treat our older generation with dignity when so much else has been stripped away.
Characters like Margaret, Sarah, Elaine and Piotr were my way of honouring those people. They don’t carry rifles, but they carry everything else.
Turning Experience into Story
The Clarke family are fictional, but the emotions behind them are very real.
William carries the weight of past service.
Michael represents the modern veteran, juggling loyalty, guilt and responsibility.
Margaret and Sarah hold the home front together.
Elaine stands in the middle, pulled in every direction.
And around them are the blokes on the ground and the staff in the care corridor, all playing their part.
I wanted readers – whether they’ve served or not – to feel like they were stepping into a real family, with all the mess, love, humour and pain that comes with it.
What I Hope Readers Take Away
If you pick up The Lost Hero, my hope is that you come away with three things:
Respect – for those who’ve served, and for those still dealing with the aftermath. Recognition – if you’re a veteran, a family member or a carer, I hope you see something of yourself on the page. Remembrance – not just of battles and medals, but of the quiet everyday courage it takes to keep going.
This book is my tribute – to my own experiences, to the veterans I’ve met, and to the families who stand beside them.
If this resonates with you, I’d be truly grateful if you’d:
Share this post, Tell a friend about the book, or Leave a review if you’ve already read it.
Those small actions make a huge difference to an indie author trying to get a story like this out into the world.
It wakes you like a punch to the gut. One moment you are asleep and the world is the steady drum of rain on tin; the next, the sky explodes and the compound becomes a thing of splinters and noise. Mortar rounds. The air tasted of wet dirt and metal the instant they started, like the jungle had been sliced open.
The first one hits short, right outside the hut. It throws up a wall of mud and water that slams into the rafters and makes the whole place shudder. I was up before I had properly understood, hands moving like they had been wired already. Boots on. Webbing clipped. Helmet on. The old reflexes that the sergeant had hammered into us in the rain did their job before my brain caught up.
“Contact! Contact front!” someone bellowed. The voice, half shout, half animal, came from outside, a hundred men’s worth of fear in each syllable.
I shoved my feet into soggy boots, grabbed my SLR where it leaned against the bunk. The metal was cold and slick; rainwater dripped from the barrel. My hands knew what to do: load, check, prepare. Training came back in a blink, as sharp as any whistle.
Check the magazine, fingers fumbling only for a second, insert. Pull bolt to the rear. Let it slam forward. Safety catch, to SAFE. Click. Then, instinctively, when you are running out into the noise, you do not want the safety on; but you do not want the rifle going off until you know where you are pointing. A whispered rule from basic: do not be the one who shoots when you should not. Flip the safety to FIRE only when you are settled and have a target.
My hands moved through the drill, magazine seated, cheek to the comb, front sight lined up in the rain. The weapon must point naturally at the target; your position and grip must support the weight. You can’t fight a rifle; you must marry it. The sight picture must be correct: front sight crisp, rear aperture framing it, target just in front of the post. Breathe. Hold. Squeeze. Follow through. I could hear it in my head like a sermon. I did not have time for sermons, but the motions were bone deep.
Outside the hut the world was a hell of sparks and shadow. Tracers stitched the air in pale threads. There were flashes in the tree line, muzzle flashes, the staccato signatures of weapons secondary to one another. Somebody screamed. Somebody shouted back. Mud spattered my face. My heart was a drumbeat in my throat.
To find out what happens you’ll need to read the full story available now on Amazon.
Next Saturday, I’ll be doing something I’ve dreamed about for a long time: sitting behind a table at a live event, chatting to people and signing copies of my debut novel, The Lost Hero.
I’ll be at the Care for Veterans Christmas Fayre at Gifford House, Boundary Road, Worthing, West Sussex, on Saturday 29th November 2025, from 12:00–16:00.
On the day, it’ll just look like an author at a stall with a nice banner and a stack of books. But there’s a lot of graft that goes into getting there – especially when you’re self-published.
Saying “Yes” to a Live Event
This all started with a conversation at Care for Veterans. I’ve been lucky enough to spend time there, talking with staff and residents, including veterans from previous generations. When the opportunity came up to have a stall at their Christmas Fayre, it felt like the perfect fit.
As a veteran myself, The Lost Hero is my tribute to those who served, those still serving, and the families who carry the weight of it all. Being able to share the book at a veterans’ charity event just made sense.
But saying “yes” is the easy part. After that, the real work begins.
Booking the Stall & Talking to the Venue
First job: book the stall.
That meant liaising with the team at Care for Veterans, confirming:
Date and times Space available What I can and can’t bring Whether there’s power, access, parking etc.
It’s not glamorous, but it’s essential. Emails, calls, double-checking details. When you’re self-published, there’s no events team doing this for you – it’s all on your shoulders.
Paying Upfront: Stock, Banner & Setup
One thing people don’t always see is the personal cost behind these events.
I’ve ordered a roller banner out of my own pocket so that my stand looks professional and people can actually spot The Lost Hero from across the hall. I’m ordering physical copies of the book myself to bring along and sign. There’s no big publisher shipping boxes of books to the venue. Every copy I sell at the fayre is one I’ve invested in upfront. Then there’s the small stuff that adds up: table coverings, pens that won’t run out mid-signature, card reader, change float, bags for people to take their books home.
None of this is a complaint – it’s just the reality of being an indie author. You believe in your book so much that you’re willing to back it with your own time, energy and money.
Promotion: Letting People Know I’ll Be There
The next layer is getting the word out.
I’m now promoting my stall alongside all the other brilliant stalls that will be at the fayre. That means:
Posting on Facebook, Instagram, TikTok and my Ryan Mayo Daily blog Letting friends, family, and the veteran community know Encouraging people to come down, even if it’s just to say hello and have a chat
Again, there’s no marketing department behind me – just me, my phone, and the hope that the right people see the posts and think, “I fancy popping down to that.”
Why It’s All Worth It
So why do it?
Because this is more than selling books.
It’s about:
Meeting readers face-to-face instead of just watching numbers on a screen Talking to veterans and families and hearing their stories Raising money for a cause that means a lot to me
For this event, £2 from every copy of The Lost Hero sold at the fayre will be donated to Care for Veterans. So when you buy a book, you’re not just supporting me as an author – you’re supporting a charity that cares for those who’ve served.
That makes the long emails, the upfront costs, and the logistics feel worthwhile.
Where I’ll Be & When – Come Say Hello
If you’re in or around Worthing, I’d love to see you there.
📍 Event: Care for Veterans Christmas Fayre
🏠 Location: Care for Veterans, Gifford House, Boundary Road, Worthing, West Sussex, BN11 4LJ
📆 Date: Saturday 29th November 2025
⏰ Time: 12:00–16:00
I’ll be there with:
Signed copies of The Lost Hero A brand-new roller banner (so you can’t miss me!) Time for a chat about the book, service life, veterans, and future projects
If you do come along, please stop by and say hello – even if you don’t buy a book. A friendly face and a conversation are just as valuable.
And if you’re too far away to attend, you can still help by:
Sharing this post Leaving a review if you’ve read The Lost Hero Telling a friend who might enjoy the book
Thank you for supporting an indie author, a veteran, and a charity that does fantastic work.
book signing, author event, live event, self publishing, indie author, The Lost Hero, Ryan Mayo, veterans, Care for Veterans, Christmas Fayre, Worthing, West Sussex, charity event, military fiction, remembrance
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