Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing. Show all posts

Sunday, 25 May 2014

Stealing Moments...

Some ideas come from nowhere you can properly our your finger on. They seem to leap into your mind as if they were hiding behind that door wanting to make you jump. Or they feel like they've always been there, sneaking into your thoughts to the point where you can't actually remember not having the idea in your head at all.
Then there's the idea which comes from a word or a phrase or a picture or TV show. One that pops like a lightbulb and gets it's claws into your brain and refusing to shake its grip. 

Last year, I went to the Manchester Ethiad stadium to see Bon Jovi.  It was a concert is wanted to go to for years and I have to admit I wish I'd done it years before as it didn't live up to expectations. But that's as may be. 

One if the support acts was excellent. James Walsh, ex of Starsailor, was grey and a pleasure to watch and listen to. One of his songs was Precious Stolen Moments, and an idea formed. 


Or the hint of an idea, at least. 

In fact, I don't think it was even that. I think it was more like the title dug in for the winter, hibernating until the spring came and it could germinate into something much more. 

Well, spring is here. 

And the idea is germination and blossoming. 

Only the other day something was said about 'stolen moments' in a conversation with my wife, and that became the fertiliser I needed. 

Last week, I finished my story Secrets, the latest entry for my Darker Places collection - the follow up to Dark Places. My intention was to finish off Puddlebrain and continue to work on Mortal Sin, the sequel to Sin

Things don't always happen as I intend, and I felt the need to finally begin the story about these 'stolen moments'. 

And so it begins. I keep writing little bits as time allows, thankful for finally discovering OneNote on my iphone to let me keep track of such scribblings. 

Here it is so far. It's not much but, and this is something which happens very rarely, I know where it's going. I've even, after a fashion, written the ending. 

-

Stolen Moments
 
I help people. I help them. 
 
I don't kill them. I... I help them. I...

When they have nowhere to go except into the hearafter, I bring the hand of Death and theirs together, to be led peacefully wherever they would be taken.  

When the edge of night threatens to darken their day, I bring a torch with which to guide them on.

I don't kill them. 

I don't...

It started…  Oh God, when did it start?  It seems so long ago. Another lifetime. Another me. Another town. Another…

Well. Just 'another' everything.

Then things changed. Things changed so much. It was as if space and time were spinning about their singularity and one dipped its toe into the chaotic waters and I was one of the ripples. 

The crow, I think. 

It started with the crow.

-

I hope it shows promise. I think it does. It has its claws in me anywho, so I'm stuck with finishing it. I'll let you know when we're done! 

Tuesday, 13 May 2014

Me, Myself and Cindy...

"An ordinary woman (?) with an extra-ordinary collection."
 
Here’s something a little different.  It’s an interview.  Yes, we’ve been there before, but not quite like this.  This time, Sin and I are joining forces to chat to long time fan and friend, Cindy Harper.  Now, you know Sin can ramble on, so I’ll try to keep him in check.  Not sure how successful I’ll be.
 
Ey up, me ol’ china!  Sin here.  Me and what’s his name were wondering if you’d be willing to answer a few questions.  Not in a ‘You’re nicked’ police kind of way, more in a ‘You’re a fan?  How weird!’ kind of way.
 
Shaun: Hi Cindy.  What he means is, would you mind being interviewed about your ‘love’ of Sin?  Before he gets excited, I mean the story, of course.
 
Cindy: I'd be happy to.  Good thing I just finished reading his story again.
 
Sin: Again?  How many times is that now?
 
Shaun: Are you finding new things each time you read it, or are you simply enjoying the ride (I assume there’s enjoyment in there)?
 
Cindy - Sin: I've read your story close to a dozen times now. The prologue maybe a half dozen more.
 
Cindy - Shaun: I do find new things every now and again. Or certain parts will resonate stronger than before. The first time I read Sin's story, it was the shorter, original version. I could only get a few pages in at a time, because it was so strange being that far inside someone's head. Then, the longer version came out. Once I'd gotten through the complete book, I was going along for whatever ride Sin wanted to take.
 
Sin: Wow.  And they call me insane!  I have to admit to feeling a little flattered though.
 
Shaun: That’s impressive.  I’ve watched the same film more than once and occasionally read a book a few times (The Belgariad and Ocean at the End of the Lane) but none that many times.  What is it about Sin which captivates you so?
 
Sin: Yes.  What he said.
 
Cindy: OK.  Why am I insane?
 
Sin: Reading my story so many times!  I didn’t realise I was that interesting!
 
Shaun: He said it, not me.  I think reading my book so many times is a little weird.  I mean a sign of impeccable taste!
 
Cindy - Sin: You are unlike any other character I've ever read. That you openly allow your reader so far inside your head? I can only marvel at,  and wonder where and what you're going to do next.
 
Cindy - Shaun: Admit it, you're pleased. I know I've told family and friends that if they don't want to read the whole book, at least read the prologue. After that, then decide if you want to read the rest of the story.  More often than not, I end up loaning out my printed copy of the book.
Sin's story will stay with you long after reading.  I know a couple of friends that won't pick up coins from the ground anymore. I've watched them reach for a penny, but pull back at the last moment before touching said coin. They'll laugh at themselves,  and then move on. The coin left behind.
For a while there, I kept finding dimes. Even when I knew my pocket was empty, a dime would show up. No clue where it came from; it was just there. Creeped me out for a bit. I laughed about it, but it was still weird.
 
I do know the "Flip. Catch." has captured my imagination. I've been designing a quilt based on some of the imagery from the story. I've been given a two pence to work and play with. It's been an interesting experiment to try and photograph the coin flipping in midair. I haven't gotten all of the quilt designed yet. I'm still trying to decide if I want to storyboard key scenes, or just focus on the coin. You'll know once the quilt is done.
 
Sin: Hey, if I have to walk through the darkened halls of my mind, I want someone there holding my hand!  Who knows what might jump out at us?!
 
Shaun: OK, I admit it.  You’re my very own stalker cheerleader and it’s very flattering.  As for the coins, a few people have told me that.  I think it’s so cool that my book can have that effect on them! 
 
Sin: I think I’ll avoid all currency that isn’t in note form from now on!  Much safer.  You can’t flip a tenner!
 
Shaun: Chicken.  So, Cindy – What do you think to Joy?  Do you think she helps or hinders Sin?
 
Sin: Don’t just be nice because she’s my sister!
 
Cindy - Sin: The idea that you'd "want" someone to hold your hand... I'm almost speechless. That you'd be afraid of what might jump out at you?!? Who are you? And what have you done with Sin??
 
*peers at Shaun a bit closer* Cindy - Shaun, are you messing around with Sin's psyche again? I'd have never thought Sin would be the one to be 'afraid' of anything, let alone what might be in the dark.
 
Unless... *pauses to consider* Unless... Sin's getting sweet on a dame. *eyes twinkling* Sin? Have you gotten yourself a dame stashed somewhere?
 
Cindy - Shaun: I am but a fan. Ok, a cheerleader, too.  I'm working hard at not falling into the 'stalker' category. :-P I've met stalker-fans. *cringes* Yeah, so NOT want to be like that. As my job as cheerleader, how goes the sequel "Mortal Sin"? Please don't tell me I'm going to have to wait 10 years before getting my fingers on a copy of that story. 
 
Cindy - Sin: Or, you could just get yourself a debit card. You'd never have to touch currency of any sort. Although, it might be interesting to see what would happen if you did a 'flip, catch' with any other sort of currency. I'll admit to be curious about what other sorts of things may or may not happen. *pauses to consider* Or, is it just that particular coin that forces you to focus?
 
Cindy - Shaun: Joy adds depth to Sin's story. While I get that she has "rules" she can't break, it's interesting watching her try to bend them to attempt to help Sin. As for whether or not she's there to help him? I haven't quite decided. She's there for a purpose. At first, I thought she was more of a manifestation of his conscience, and this was just another way of showing how he's trying to deal with himself (and what he's done).  When Joy's story came out, I needed to reassess my original thoughts on her. The Matthews family has issues. Like SERIOUS issues. Where did those come from? Why did they manifest the way they did? Was there more to the parents (in particular, the dad) that we've been shown? 
 
Cindy - Sin: You should know me well enough, by now, to know I'm not going to hold any punches about your story or the characters in it. Joy is a beacon. I'm reserving judgment if she's there as a savior or destroyer. 
 
Sin: Wouldn’t you be afraid wandering around inside my head?  If not, then maybe you need to be in the asylum yourself!  As for me getting sweet on a ‘dame’, my lips are sealed.  Nothing and no-one stashed here, no way, no how.
 
Shaun: Don’t be blaming me.  He’s a law (of physics) unto himself!  I don’t think he’s afraid of the dark, I think he’s afraid of his dark.
 
Sin:  Ohhh, get you, Mr.  Deep  Thinker.  Didn’t know you had it in you.
 
Shaun: Don’t start.  I’ve got you in me!  Anyway, Cindy.  You’re more than a fan.  Definitely cheerleader material, with everything you’ve done for us.  We appreciate it.  The sequel is going…  Sin, being Sin was meant to visit a certain place.  Unfortunately for me, he didn’t and it’s kind of surprised me, so I’ve stalled a little.  I need to research with a policeman what might happen next.  I do hope it won’t be ten years!
 
Sin:  Hey, don’t blame me.  I didn’t mean to get myself arrested!
 
Shaun:  Shhh…
 
Sin:  A debit card is a good idea.  Saying that, I never had an issue with, say, a fifty pence piece.  It was always that two pence coin.
 
Shaun:  I did, actually, think Joy may have been Sin’s sub-conscious.  Things are often not as I expect, though, so it turned out she wasn’t.  She holds him in check as much as she can but can’t help certain things happening.  Hopefully, in the sequel, she’ll have more success.  She’ll certainly try.  I think their parents may have an appearance, and we may see behind the boarded up door.  Not sure yet.
 
Sin:  Joy is bacon?  Oh, you meant…  Well, we’ll see.  So, this all happens where we grew up.  Could you see stories written about where you grew up, or is it all too ‘normal’?
 
Shaun:  Good point.  I always thought Grimsby was a bit ‘grim’ and here am I writing about it!
 
Cindy - Sin: Oh, Sin. Whatever am I to do with you? There are days you give me hope. In the most unexpected ways.
 
Cindy - Shaun: Now that Sin's story is released as an audiobook, how do you feel about the 'voice' that's been given to him? How close is the actor's voice to the voice that ping-pongs inside your head?
 
Cindy - Sin: How close is this bloke's voice (on the audiobook format) to your own? 
 
Sin:  Cindy, the fact that I could give anyone hope gives me hope.  And proves the world is weirder than I ever imagined.  Or you are, not sure which.
 
Shaun:  At first, I wasn’t so sure.  Because Sin is so much a part of me (Sin: Or you a part of me…), I expected him to sound, well… like me!  The fact he doesn’t took some getting used to.  Roger, the (Grammy nominated) narrator, put on something of an accent to ‘Northernise’ his own accent, but still, it didn’t sound like I thought he should.  It didn’t take long, however, to become accustomed and then to feel he had it spot on.  The depth and warmth to his voice matches perfectly.  Now, I can’t imagine any other voice.  He’s going to be doing Dark Places soon, I believe.
 
Sin:  I don’t sound that much like you, Shaun.  Too nasally.  Roger is a well-spoken Southerner, as he describes himself, so he doesn’t particularly sound like me either.  But yes, I agree.  Once you get well into in, it feels natural.  Maybe more natural than I do.  It’s very strange having someone else read my words as me.  What do you think Cindy?  Do you know how Shaun speaks?  Is it anywhere close to how you imagine I speak?
 
Cindy - Sin: The only time I've heard Shaun speak is on random videos he's posted to Facebook and on radio interviews. We've never called each other to speak on the phone.  As for whether I think either of you sound alike? *shakes head* No. The both of you are vastly different.  Listening to your words for the first time was an adjustment. It took me a couple of chapters to get used to this voice. I'd been expecting something a bit more 'rough around the edges'. However, now that I'm almost all of the way through, it's easier to accept the actor's voice as yours.
 
Cindy - Shaun: Where will you go from here? What will be the next step(s) in Sin's world?  I am curious about something, if I may. How did the idea of telling Sin's story from inside his head germinate? Why tell his story from this view point? I know it took a few years to write. I get that.
 
Sin: Ah, I’m pleased you feel we’re so very different.  I’d hate to think that people see us as the same person.  I’m sure Shaun would too, considering what I’m like.  Not that I’m bad or anything – just misunderstood.  By the Grim Reaper.  Do you like how the audiobook turned out then?  I have to say I do.  Well, I don’t have to say, but I want to say.  You know what I mean.  You’ve been in my head almost as much as I have!
 
Shaun: Well, there’s Sin’s blog, which he’s a bit lax on writing recently!  And, of course, I have his sequel in process.  I think he may write another short story, but I’m unsure about the how and where.  Perhaps after Mortal Sin is done.
 
Sin:  Lax?  Me?  Do you know how hard it is to get time to write, either here in the asylum or there in your head?  And, talking of lax, the sequel…?
 
Shaun: Yes, I know.  I need to work more on it.  I had to finish Home and now I’m working on getting Singularity Books up.  It’s going around in my head.
 
Sin:  Yes, I know that – I’m getting dizzy!
 
Shaun:  Writing Sin from his point of view was accident, really.  I just started writing and there he was.  I had no idea what sort of story it was going to be, it went the way it wanted to.  I possibly needed to write it to let out my inner demons.  Now I have, they still want to play and he still doesn’t want to shut up!
 
Sin: You just be careful with those demons.  They bite.  Cindy – How did you start on the quilts and so on?  I’m looking forward to a certain one!
 
Cindy - Sin: *laughs* The two of you... sheesh. It took me a while to like the audiobook. I'd been waiting for one to come out since your story was in its shortened version on Smashwords. *pauses* That seems so long ago.
 
Cindy - Shaun: I've noticed a curious lack of journaling on his blog. I'm going to assume it's because you've been so busy with promoting and helping others get their stories out. (Quite noble and interesting to watch it all unfold.)
 
Cindy - Sin: You complain of difficulty trying to write because Shaun is so busy. Maybe you ought to try talking him into getting you some sort of tape recorder. At least you can get the words out. Have Shaun play secretary, and type up the dictation.  ;-)
 
Cindy - Shaun: Just kidding. I hope.  Singularity Books? I saw you were working on a logo. Will you be publishing works by other authors, too?
 
Cindy - Sin: How do I start the art quilts? Usually, it's one of two ways. The easiest is seeing a completed image done by someone. I've been working with an artist that draws his own art and an actor that does photo-art.
 
The more difficult way is when I think of an image. I stink at sketching and drawing. (It's not where my strongest skills are.) I have to figure out how to get the image out of my head and into a format someone else can see.
 
Once I have an image I can play/work with, it gets turned into a digital image (if it isn't already). From there, I process said image in photo imaging software. This step is the crucial part. If I can't get the image to work here, it's not going to work later.
 
At this point, I begin figuring out how big I want to make the art quilt. I try to keep the image within standard quilt sizes, as it's more comfortable. I print out my newly manipulated image in the size I want, and then start piecing my base pattern together. (Yes, this is all the prelude to working with the fabrics.)
 
Once the base pattern is assembled, I put it on my light wall. (It's like a light table, only bigger.) The design goes through another round of inspections. I'm looking for any areas that aren't as well defined or may give me some trouble.  I'm also looking for where to start and figuring out a general path/pattern to complete the design.
 
By now, I've already sorted my collected fabrics and have a background picked out. From there, it's making all those pieces. Each piece is drawn (traced out) and cut out by hand. It's time consuming and tedious work, but this is where I can finally get the image completely out of my head and allow someone else to see it.
 
By the time I get done, the finished quilt is usually a fair size bigger than I intended. (I still haven't figured out how that one works.)  I've been accused of painting and/or printing the image onto fabric. I don't. I do, somehow, manage to get a fair amount of 3-D effects. It's really neat how that works out.
 
Oh! I just realized you were asking how I got STARTED doing art quilts! *laughs* Oops.
 
A friend of mine sent me a few photos that I thought would look neat in fabrics. I asked if he was ok with letting me try it out. After a bit of negotiations, an agreement was met. My first art quilt can be seen in my Facebook photo album called "Quilts". The quilt is called 'Dream Lover'. (I know, I know. Lack of imagination on titles.) This is really the quilt that started it all. I suppose I should finish it some time.
 
As for a very specific quilt I've got percolating in the back of my head, I'm still trying to capture the image of a two pence coin flipping in midair. I know the effect I want, can even see it in my head. Trying to get the digital version has been entertaining.
 
Sin:  It does seem an age ago.  I still remember well churning out the words on the bank of the Nile, but the actual completion of the book feels beforethat, weirdly. 
 
Shaun:  I don’t know about noble, lol.  We just know how hard it was for us when we started out, so wanted to pass on some knowledge to others.  It’s taking off quite well, with local towns showing an interest and, potentially, a TV show in the offing!  As for the audiobook, I spoke to the narrator a few days ago.  He wanted to touch base on my feelings for the stories and the voice I felt was required.  He sees some of the terminology and ways the stories are written to be quite ‘Sin-esque’ and wondered if Sin’s voice should be used.  We’re going for something more with a hint of Richard Burton though.  With the blog, I’m trying to fit it in around my own blog and promotion and, well, life generally!
 
Sin:  Fit me in?  Fit me in?  Excuse me while I sit idly by and watch the world spin.
 
Shaun:  Hey, don’t pout.  It doesn’t suit you.  You know you’re never far from my mind.  There’s only so many hours in a day.  Maybe you should add time-travel to your repertoire?
 
Sin:  I wouldn’t put it past whatever’s inside of me.  Anywho-be-do.  Cindy.  A tape recorder?  He has voice memo on his phone.  Never uses it.  Oh, once he recorded the sound of the sea whilst in Majorca.
 
Shaun:  I like the sound of the sea.  He’s right though – I wouldn’t remember to take it out.  It’d be the same if I had a notepad.  I’d probably not have a pen.  I get there in the end, though.  And hopefully, when I do, it’s worth the wait.  Regarding Singularity Books, I want to collect all my books under my own banner.  They’ll have an identity and, hopefully, people will like it.  I hadn’t thought about taking others on, actually.  I was just doing it for my own books.  I suppose it’s something I could potentially look at one day, maybe.
 
Sin:  Your quilts do look amazing.  Some of the depth to the images is brilliant.  Yes, I did mean how did you start doing them in the first places, but thanks for the info.  It was very interesting.  You mentioned my quilt sooo long ago.  You can’t complain about me keeping you waiting!
 
Shaun:  Yeah, what he said!
 
Cindy:  Alright guys, I'm sure Shaun has a lot going on. Plus, Sin -- you, my dear, have a sequel to finish. Whereas I've been not so subtly reminded I've got a "special" quilt to work on. I can't thank you enough for all the time you've given me. It really means a lot.
 
Shaun:  Thanks for joining us!  It means to lot to the both of us that you’re such a fan and unfaltering advocate of our work.
 
Sin:  I agree.  It’s a pleasure to know you and know I have, at least, one friend!  If you’re ever passing, I’ll keep a seat warm for you, though I can’t promise Mucous Mickey hasn’t been there first.

-

I asked Cindy to remind me how we met. This was her answer:

"You followed me on Twitter. You kept promoting this book you'd released on Smashwords. One day, you offered a 50% discount on it. So, I looked it up. The prologue sounded intriguing, and I bought it. That's how I met Sin.

 
Basically. Once I'd found your webpage, I started looking into anything else you'd written. Imagine my surprise when I found Sin's blog. I wasn't sure what to make of it. Here you have a fictional character writing a not-so-fictional blog about fictional happenings. You'd grown Sin from just words on a screen to something that was as tangible as any other human that writes.
 
My first thoughts were, "Now that's a neat shtick." I had no clue how you were going to be able to separate yourself from your creation, or how long it'd last.
 
As the blog posts went up, there was a certain amount of charm to them. Since I didn't really want to let Sin go, this was a neat way to watch him grow and develop even more.
 
Yes, I treat Sin like he's a 'normal' human being. That's because of how you've presented him. Do I understand he's a fictional character?  Yes. I'm very aware he's not a living, breathing human being. That you have the skills to make him transcend mere words on a page is incredible.
 
Thank you for allowing me to be part of his world."

Thank you, Cindy, for helping Sin become more than simply words. 

Monday, 24 February 2014

Just Keep Swimming...


So much to do and so little time.
 
I admit, I've been a little (a lot) lax in my postings of late.  Sin has been too.  I'm trying to dedicate some time to writing so blog posts get left behind in the wake, bobbing about on the surface of my musings without being able to put their feet down and gain purchase.
 
There's a number of things I want to blog about.  A fab meal I had at the Spice Hut in Cleethorpes.  My trip to Disneyland Paris last week (great trip apart from a few incidents with the coach).  Watching the excellent Captain Phillips.  More!
 
But, I'm not getting round to it.  I need a PA or something, it seems.  Or a clone.  Maybe I should talk to the producers of Orphan Black (worthy of a blog post in itself - brilliant show) to see if they have a spare.
 
Anywho.  I haven't forgotten you.  I'm just trying, and I mean trying, to write.  I'm working on the sequel to Sin, but he's gone and gotten himself arrested.  I wasn't expecting that, so I'm a bit stumped as to what's going to happen next.  I've got Puddlebrain, my children's book.  I know exactly what's going to happen (a first for me, I think), but I have to get to finishing it.  Perhaps it's because I know it needs a good edit.  I used a few too many 'big' words for the age range, for a start.  But I'll get there.  Puddlebrain is the story I began whilst writing Sin.  I’d written about 40,000 words and forgotten about them.  I do like what I’ve written, I just need to refine it.
 
Then there's my current story, 'Home'.  With inspiration coming from the same place as The Lake and Summer Loving, it's sort of tied me up.  I'm revisiting an alternative version of my youth, and it won't be pretty.  I expected this to be a short story of, perhaps, a couple of thousand words.  I’m at 3,000 already and still scope for more.
 
Excerpt from 'Home'
The trip to school seemed to take all day.  I could imagine getting there just in time to turn around and go back home.  Unfortunately, the minutes were just taking their time, spacing out the seconds in between like a trail of sweets, with me as Hansel following politely and hungrily along.  I arrived at the school gates with just enough time to spare for my friends to semi-playfully make fun of my fainting episode.  I took the brunt of the jibes and jokes with a facade of smiles.  I’d do the same if I were them.  Cracking jokes, poking ribs.  It was part of being at school.
 
Of course, when I saw the blood dripping off my desk in English later that morning, not quite coagulating but thick enough to look like crimson snot dangling off the edge of the desk lid, the teasing ceased.  I didn’t scream.  I didn’t faint.  I simply stopped.  My feet no longer worked.  My eyes no longer blinked.  I suppose my lungs alternatively inflated and deflated and my heart continued to pump, though maybe a little faster, but I couldn’t tell.  I couldn’t hear the teacher or the pupils talking to me nor could I feel them pulling at me to make me move.
 
My world had disappeared and all I could see was the blood.
 
Then, I think, I did faint.
 
At least it would give my friends something more to take the Mickey out of me for.
 
So.  I'll be back.  How many of you just said that in an Arnie-style voice?  I know I did when I wrote it.
 
Bear with me.  Hopefully it'll be worth the wait.  Just keep swimming, as the epic Dory would say, and I will too.

UPDATE:  Home, a 'short story' was finished a couple of days ago, to the tune of a smidgen over 9,500 words.  I quite like it.  You'll, hopefully, see it in Darker Places...

Tuesday, 24 December 2013

Christmas is coming...


Christmas is coming.  The goose is getting fat, but I eat turkey, so I'm not too fussed 'bout that.  I'm waiting for the snow to fall and the temperature to drop, for the river outside my house to freeze and the world to come to a stop.

 

And though the ducks will walk on water and the air will be just biting, I'll be fine with pen and paper, as long as I am writing.

 

This time last year I was in good cheer, for my second book was done.  It all had raced in such a blur, but now the race was won.  And since back then, I have been blessed with reviews so very fine.  My so long journey went so fast, and my books can surely shine!

 

Now Christmas is coming once again and more books I have in store, like Zits'n'Bits and Rudolph, and soon so many more.

 

I love to write, creating worlds no man has walked upon, and to take a reader by the hand and share with everyone.  I also love to find myself taken by a writer's hand, and led to places far and wide, discovering whole new lands.

 

I guess that on my Christmas list, I'd ask for a few more hours.  For writing, reading, marketing you need some special powers!  Just a couple, five or so, more hours in the day and I might get to do the things that keep on slipping away.  Work and life and family I thoroughly enjoy, but to fit it into 24, I'd have more me's to employ!

 

But so it is and such is life, it only makes us stronger.  But, Santa, if you're listening, can you make my days a little longer?

Friday, 22 November 2013

Illuminating the Bulb...

Also known as 'being illuminated by the bulb!'

 

I’m sure that makes no sense to you, dear reader.  Not many things I say probably do, but where would be the fun if they did, hmmm?  Well, let me enlighten you.

 

I would hope, a little over a week ago, certain things I said did make sense.  A little over a week ago, I had the genuine delight of visiting Chelmsford in Essex.  I’d been asked to pop down (as much as you can pop when the journey takes a little over 3 hours each way) and chat to a writing group – The Write Bulb.

 

I was actually asked a year ago but, for one reason and another, I couldn’t go.  The invitation was always there, hanging in the air like a cloud.  Not one of those nasty, dark, angry ones though, the ones that make you run and hide so they don’t drench you or jab at you with their lightning.  No, this was one of those light types that drift about the clear sky on a summer morn.  The kind that happily change shape from dragon to butterfly to rocket ship to keep you entertained whilst life is keeping you occupied.

 

So, finally, everything fell into place for the visit to take... erm... place.

 

Having never been to Essex before, I was pleased that Google Maps was my friend.  I set off nice and early (around 8:09am) with my supply of Sin postcards, Sin paperbacks and Lincolnshire Pork Sausages.

 

Yes, that’s what I said, sausages.  Not just any old sausage, either.  Lincolnshire Pork ones.  And not just any old Lincolnshire Pork ones.  Pettits award winning Lincolnshire Pork Sausages!  If you haven’t tasted them, you are missing something good.  Now you may think that’s an odd thing to take to a writers’ group meeting.  I’d tend to agree, not least because it was a tray of 40, but they were a special request from the person who invited me down.

 

Carlie Cullen, step forward.  Carlie is a wonderful writer, author of the equally wonderful Heart Search.  She’s part of the Myrddin Publishing Group I’m also a member of, and through which my Dark Places anthology is published.  And a finer group of people you’d be hard pressed to meet.

 

So.  The journey down was fairly uneventful, apart from me having to listen to a steady stream of static from my car stereo which seemed unable to grab hold of a station long enough to let loose audible music from the car speakers.  Even though I hadn’t met either Carlie or her lovely daughter Maria before, I felt like we were old friends.  The crispy bacon butty she made me for lunch cemented that feeling.

 

Did I mention I was a little nervous about the visit?  Or did you guess based on previous posts?  I feel I never know what to say or how to start.  I think it’s because I’m not entirely sure I have anything to say!  Or anything worth listening to, at least.  I say my ‘stuff’ in my books.  I ramble and delve and ponder in my writing through my characters.  Telling people about one of my characters is easy.  Telling people about me, not so much.

 

I walked into the room with Carlie and Maria, hoping we’d be early and I could psyche (remember, psyche with an ‘e’ not an ‘o’) myself up prior to the arrival of the rest of the group.  I didn’t have that chance.  A good few were already there with others joining us steadily.  And I was given the seat at the head of the table!

 

First up, after introductions, was the writing challenge.  I agreed to take part and had brought my journal all ready to go.  The subject was ‘The room in the tower,’ and we could write anything we liked along those lines.  We just had to ‘go for it’.  So I went for it.

 

As is usual for me, I had no idea where I was going with the story.  I still don’t really.  The 35 minutes we had, though, gave me chance to get a good start.  One or two of the troupe read out their stories, then I was asked to.


Gulp.

 

Still, it seemed to go down well.  I think.

 

Eventually, it was my turn to talk.  My escape routes were blocked and, at the head of the table, I could hardly duck my head and remain quiet.  But, what to say?  How to start?  OK, I knew what I wanted to actually tell them – my writing and publishing ‘career’, but...

 

Then John, a lovely, funny Scot, jumped in with a question before I had chance to draw a breath.  From that point on, things went pretty smoothly, I think.  The members of the group seemed interested in what I had to say (though they could be good actors) and asked some in-depth, great questions that actually made me think about my own writing.  I found myself realising things about how and why I produce the work I do, so even this became a sort of therapy.  I just hope I don’t get the bill through the post!  At least Sin doesn’t charge!

 

A few of them were gracious enough to buy copies of my book, for which I’m grateful, and some remained behind afterwards (even though we’d run over by half an hour) to chat.  I appreciated that.  Sarah-Jane – I hope your writing brings you the help it’s brought me (and thanks for following me on Twitter!), and James, please finish your story.  I want to see where it goes!

 

I thoroughly enjoyed myself with The Write Bulb and sincerely hope they remain in touch.  There are some talented people there and the group, as a whole, are a delight.

 

Oh, and I accepted the writing challenge of a 1000 word story on The Masquerade.  I’d best get started then!  In my defence, I have spent a fair amount of time reading, and when you’re sailing in a South Sea Bubble or dipping your toe in the Ocean at the End of the Lane, it’s difficult to put pen to paper.

 

Thank you Carlie, Maria and the Writer’s Bulb.  It was a long but enjoyable and fulfilling day.  I’ll maybe see you again next year!

Monday, 21 October 2013

Never Give Up...


Ten years ago, I wrote a short story.

 

No, wait.  Let's go back.  Way back.  Back into time...  Something like forty years ago, I wrote a story.  It wouldn't have been very long and was, I would think, not very good.  I also drew a picture to go along with it.  Again, potentially not very good.

 

I was five.

 

I may have been four, I may have been six but, seeing as one of the poems in my children's book Zits'n'Bits is called 'I Want to be Five', that's how old we'll say I was.  An age of wonder, of Father Christmas, of the Tooth Fairy and of monsters under the bed.  And, of course, the age of very short, potentially badly written stories.  I'm sure my mum and dad were very proud, though.

 

I didn't stop.  Since then I have carried on making up stories, creating worlds and inhabiting them with all manner of creatures and people - sometimes the two being one.  I suppose that classes me as 'writer' then.

 

I remember being stood in the corridor at school with my friend, Tony.  Now Tony has supported my writing from way back then and is a fervent supporter even now - to the effect that he is mentioned in the dedication, acknowledgement and text of Sin.  I'd started writing a book.  A proper novel.  We were on corridor duty, there to make sure other pupils didn't run or fight and so on.  We had badges to proclaim our Prefect status.  I was showing him the beginnings of this book, this powerhouse of prose.  I don't recall if he thought it was any good.  Thinking back on some of the wording, it wasn't.  A teacher came along and asked what we were looking at so I showed and told him.

 

I do recall the teacher being impressed.  Not, I would think, at what I'd written, but with the fact that I WAS writing.  I think the guy was the Geography teacher, but I can't be sure.

 

Either way, I didn't carry on that story.  I did, though, write some GOOD stories at that school.  The English teacher was excellent and it was he that gave me the buzz to actually produce a proper novel.  So much so, in fact, that, after I'd left school and he'd retired, I used to send him my stories and he'd return them with the same sort of marks, corrections and comments he did whilst he was teaching me.  Well, I guess he never stopped.

 

When I left school, my writing diminished.  I still produced stories and poetry and, I believe, it got better.  Life got in the way, as it tends to, and I was letting it.  The bug didn't leave though.  It bided its time then, one day, it firmly bit me on the ankle.  I was writing more.  I wasn't keeping a lot of it, but I was writing it.  The advent of the internet was a real boon.  Thanks to the world wide web, I had my work published in various small magazines in the US and other countries.  Some even won competitions.

 

I then started another book.  I'd had an idea and I went with it.  Again, I drifted off it.  The muse had me, then it jumped onto something different (something that curses me still - luckily, now, it does have a habit of returning).  Reading that story back now, there are some very good ideas in it, I think.  Some I'll use again.  I may even pick it up again and finish it.  Either way, I wrote a good deal and got a fair way into it.

 

Not long after I'd started this, I was getting into web design and so on.  This would be around 16 years ago.  I'd been sending my stories off for a while.  Some were accepted, some weren't - such is the life of the writer.  I set up a website for poetry and prose of my own and soon was receiving emails from all over the world from hopeful authors who wanted a voice and to share their work with the world.  The website soon had the attention of Sky television who asked me to appear to discuss the pros and cons of electronic (which was really just web based then) as opposed to traditional publishing.  There was me, effectively doing this 'in my bedroom' going against someone from Curtis Brown!

 

I had the last word, though...

 

Then, as I may have mentioned, ten years ago I wrote a short story.  That short story is now the prologue to a fully fledged, fully completed, novel.  Not only that, but it's been compared to two of my favourite authors, Stephen King and Dean Koontz, and has been called 'an incredible read.'

 

That and other reviews are quite humbling.  From those stories written by my fiver year old self to the first attempt at a book to today has been a long road.  Though Sin has been ten years in the making, it feels like it has been forty.

 

It's another thing to cross off my 'bucket list', along with sky-diving and walking through the Valley of the Kings in Luxor, Egypt, both of which I've done in the past couple of years.  I lapsed, but I didn't give up.  I wandered off the path, but my muse took me by the hand and guided me back on.

 

Nor should you - give up.

 

Ten years ago, I wrote a short story.  Forty years ago I did the same and added a little drawing.

 

A couple of years ago I shook hands with the Community Development officer at the central library who bought ten copies of my book to put in each of the local libraries.  Within ten minutes of that meeting I'd sold another ten to WH Smiths, a well know book store chain here in the UK - the one, through all those years, that I wanted to walk into and see my book on the shelf of.

 

Never say never.

Wednesday, 2 October 2013

Wrestling the Muse...


 The Muse.  Now there's a character.  If you could picture him, what would he be like?  I imagine him with an eye mask and a sly grin.  A long dark coat that has a lining of more colours than Joseph's Technicolor garment of choice.  His hair is just so except when you catch him out of the corner of your eye.  Then it's wild and unkempt, a nest of Medusa-like proportions.

 

Then the mask drops and you see him juggling words, deliberately dropping them into a pile at his feet that he dances upon.  As each falls, he plucks another out of the air, smoother than David Copperfield or Dynamo.

 

The Muse.  He stands before you, but you're tied to the chair.  You want to reach out to him, but he stands just beyond your grasp, his eyes watching you and his sly grin taunting you.

 

"You want a piece of me?" he asks.

 

But then, you manage to slip free of your bindings and launch yourself forward.  He skips out of the way, giggling, but you catch him with your foot and he falls with you.  A scuffle ensues and you succeed in pulling the mask from his face.

 

Of course, he looks like you.  Who else would taunt you with words and ideas tossed into the air and piled at your feet?

 

But you have the mask in your hand and the coat is torn open to reveal its multi-coloured interior.  Woven into the fabric are the words that his sleight of hand made appear from nothing.

 

Your smile matches his own as you don the Coat of Many Characters and take up your pen.

 

The Muse pours you a coffee and pulls up a chair beside you.  After all, he was only messing.  He can't just give you the words.

 

You have to want them!