To be brave is to fear…

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration ~ Frank Herbert

That little quote from Dune is one of my favourites, and I have on occasion repeated to myself when I faced a hurdle or two along the way in life. Because that’s often what I do when I face something that feels for a moment or two overwhelming or for more than a moment or two. For a day, or a week, or months on end. I find solace and inspiration in those most loyal of friends, books and their authors. It’s astounding how a well-placed quote drawn from the depths of my memory can change my perspective or push me to get past that wall of self-doubt.

“Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway.” ~ John Wayne

I’ve talked a lot about self-doubt, in the last few weeks. I’ve also had a couple of conversations about it which made me dwell on the subject a while. My own bouts of self-doubt and there are many, are buried behind masks of self-confidence I don’t feel and abiding cynicism I don’t really have, which I present to the world as the personality I want them to believe in. Because I always feel that the moment I let anyone see how utterly terrified I feel at that moment then the whole house of cards will collapse in under its own weight leaving me bare to the world.

“Don’t be afraid of your fears. They’re not there to scare you. They’re there to let you know that something is worth it.” ~ C. JoyBell C.

The bravest people I know, are those who are most afraid. They are also the most inspiring, and if I were better at expressing myself at times, I would tell them so at the moment they perhaps need to hear it the most. But without a keyboard in front of me, I am on occasion, not the best at choosing the right words to say. Masks of self-confidence, masks of cynicism, masks that some perceive as arrogance, masks of joviality, masks that keep me unapproachable because it’s safer that way. So many bloody masks at times I forget who I am.

  “There is a great difference between being fearless and being brave.” ~ Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

So here is the thing, a few years ago now I wrote a book. Its nothing like any of my other books, but it was the first book I wrote. I wrote it from scratch in a little over five weeks, and a year later, after much editing and much self-doubt, I published it. That, I will admit, is a story oft told by me. The story I don’t tell is the reason I wrote it. I wrote it because one of the bravest people I know told me to do so. She did that in a conversation I would be utterly amazed if she remembers. But a five-minute conversation in a market place with a stranger and one thing she said to me made me write my first novel.

Just write it, don’t be afraid of doing so, it just write it, and finish a first draft, and see where you go from there  ~ The author in the marketplace

So I did… The moral of this all, well there isn’t a moral to be true, it is simply an observation. I faced a fear I would have told everyone I didn’t have but knew behind my masks was there. The fear of finish a novel and discovering after all the years spent writing but never finishing anything were because I was, as I feared deep down, incapable of writing anything worthwhile or worth reading. I did that because one of the bravest people I know told me to ‘Just do it’ despite not knowing me at all at the time. I conquered my fear, well, one of them.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration ~ Frank Herbert

And so I am back to Frank, dear Frank, and that quote I love. I love it, but I know its balderdash, fear is not the mind killer, fear is not the little-death that brings oblivion and balls to anyone who tells you not to fear. Fear is a superpower. Fear is that thing you face and beat each day. Because the bravest I know, are those who live with self-doubt, who feel overwhelmed at times, struggle with fear and face it all the same. The one who feels it, face it and push through anyway. They are the brave, they are inspirational, they are the reason books get written.

“Be yourself; everyone else is already taken.” ~ Oscar Wilde

In short, such people are heroes, so I thought I would take a moment, tell them so. From behind a keyboard naturally, because I am much better at expressing the important things when I type… And my hero, when it comes to being a novelist, well it’s the author in the marketplace. Because without her inspiring me to write that first novel, I doubt I would have ever done so. So to my friend, the author in the marketplace, I offer one final quote, from another awesome woman, one final quote and a piece of advice worth taking.

stay affraid

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Publishing the self…

Opinions, as the saying goes, are like arseholes, everybody’s got one, and some people are closer to theirs than others. As a rule, therefore, I find I only trust the opinions of those who have first proved not to ride too close to their rectum when they voice theirs. However, no matter how hard you try to ignore opinions you consider invalid or ill-informed or just plain insulting, just because you may know for certain that the opinion doesn’t hold any water, doesn’t mean you can discount it, because the opinions of others will always get through even the thickest skin.

And why? You ask, am I telling you all this, something you have probably worked out for yourself, and indeed have an opinion about. Well, there is one opinion in particular that has always bugged the hell out of me. An opinion which gets under my skin and crawls about like a cockroach thankfully never could, (except in movies about Mummy, the bandaged kind not the raisers of children). An opinion that while I utterly reject its implication, nags at me, because it eats where I live. Unlike, thankfully, cockroaches.

You’re a published author, that’s awesome… oh… you’re just self published?

Well, yer that’s great too…

And just like that the person speaking has devalued all the hard work, all your beautifully crafted plots and characters, the hours, days, week, months and frankly years you have spent creating something both uniquely different and entirely wonderful. Even if that’s is only in your own opinion.

And look, I get it, I understand the confusion, I understand why people may think that. I do. I really do. But that doesn’t mean its not a bullshit opinion. That doesn’t mean it isn’t downright insulting and it doesn’t mean the writer who self-publishes should pay such opinions the slightest heed. But we all do, in our dark moments, in those moments of self-doubt that sap the soul and eat away at the core of our existence. On those dark winter nights when you’re writing. When you’ve sat alone in front of the word processor, fighting the urge to just say ‘sod this for a lark’ and go to bed, or find another vocation that doesn’t isolate you from the world and give you nothing in return when the words just won’t flow… On those dark nights, in those small hours between the time you should have gone to bed and the time you have to be up to go to the day job that pays for the bills, on those dark nights…

Oh… you’re just self-published?

Maybe the biggest bullshit insulting opinion in the world, but on those dark nights, it really eats at you and =you may even start to believe it’s true…

And more than that, there are people in the world, lots of people in the world, who will not read a self-published book because they believe it can not possibly be of value, or be well written, or add something to the greater zeitgeist of human achievement. To be self-published is in the opinion of many, to be less than. To be unworthy of their time. A poor imitation of good writing, written by a wannabe who isn’t really a writer. No, they would sooner read another James Patterson churned out thriller, co-authored because he could not even be bothered to write it himself. Or the new Dan Brown that so big in the airports this spring… They would sooner read another Neil Gaiman novel that…  actually scratch that, everyone should read another Neil Geiman novel… And the next Stephen King.. and so many other great writers, even, if it floats your boat, Dan Brown, though I would question your judgment if that was the case. Just not Patterson, okay, never Patterson… Oh yer shitty opinions, everybody has them even me…

But as much as I can happily say with full confidence that to be Self-published doesn’t make you any less of a writer, and doesn’t devalue the worth and quality of your work, there will always be those who think otherwise, and such opinion when voiced will eventually get to anyone. Even thick skinned Yorkshiremen on lonely nights at the word processor trying to make themselves keep on writing, will when it’s hard and it is seldom easy, wonder to themselves if all those detractors are right. If your self-publish novels are really worth the paper they are printed on. If you’re just fooling yourself and or trying to fool the world into believing something that just isn’t true. Because you self-publish, and yes you have reasons you chose to do so, and yes you have never submitted a book to a big publishing house because you don’t want to go that route, but maybe deep inside you know its because you aren’t actually a good writer, that your books are rubbish and they would never actually get published…

Because doubt gets to everyone, and bullshit opinions, much as we would have it otherwise, feed self-doubt…

To date, I’ve self-published everything, well everything I have been prepared to put out into the world. I get my books edited and proofed, but otherwise, everything my own work, I make my own covers, I typeset them, I build them, I do the lot… I am enormously proud of my novels, and I think when the nights ain’t dark, and self-doubt is not eating away, that my novels stand up against anything that a big publishing house can put out, and can sit with pride alongside the work of any traditionally published author. I write great books people love to read, not just friend, not just family, but people out there in the real world who don’t know me. I have made friends with many of my readers, but only after they’ve read the books. And I love self-publishing, and self-publishers, some of the best books I have read in recent years have been indie press novels. So I don’t care if I never have a book published by a traditional publisher, and I am not actively trying to do so.

I have however just had a short story published in an anthology by a real honest to goodness publishing house. So no longer will I have to nod and smile and pretend I have not just been insulted by dismissal when someone says

Oh… you’re just self-published?

Because actually,

No. I’m not just self-published at all. I am a published author, who just happens to have some self-published novels as well as traditionally published work.

Self-publishing is wonderful, I encourage anyone who has put the work into writing to consider it, and those who do to ignore the detractors, even in the dark hours, even when that detractor is yourself. But I can’t pretend it is not exciting and that it doesn’t feel good, to have some work published the traditional way.

But then that’s just my opinion…

adios

mark

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PS.   I mention all this because I got my authors copies of Harvey Duckman Presents Vol 1 today. Which is released upon the world in a couple of weeks time and can be pre-ordered on kindle now. Featuring not only me but 13 other wonderful writers, both new and established. Click on the picture above to learn more

 

Posted in amwriting, blogging, books, Esqwiths, fiction, goodreads, indie, indie novels, indiewriter, novels, opinion, publication, rant, self-publishing, writes, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Quoting the horror…

Everyone likes a good horror movie, even if they say they don’t, and the best horror movies often start out as novels. Of course, they don’t always seem much like the novels when they are finished, and the novels are always much scarier because a good movie lives in the eyes and the ears. A great horror film lives in the pulse rate and the hairs on the back of your neck. But a great horror novel lives in the imagination, in the dark corners of your mind, and that my dear readers, is a far scarier place in which to dwell. So here are some quotes, from novels, novelists and, just this once, form the odd movie, to put the chill back in your spine. So to quote pinhead…

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“Alone. Yes, that’s the keyword, the most awful word in the English tongue. Murder doesn’t hold a candle to it and hell is only a poor synonym.” ~ Stephen King

“Everybody is a book of blood; wherever we’re opened, we’re red.”~ Clive Barker, Books of Blood: Volumes One to Three

“There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.” ~ Mary Shelley, Frankenstein

“I know always that I am an outsider; a stranger in this century and among those who are still men.” ~ H.P. Lovecraft, The Outsider

“Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer–both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams.” ~ Bram Stoker, Dracula

“I think perhaps all of us go a little crazy at times.” ~ Robert Bloch, Psycho

“Reality is shaped by the forces that destroy it.” ~ D. Harlan Wilson, The Kyoto Man

“All fled—all done, so lift me on the pyre—The Feast is over, and the lamps expire.” ~ Robert E. Howard

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“To be thoroughly conversant with Man’s heart, is to take our final lesson in the iron-clasped volume of Despair” ~ Edgar Allan Poe

“What looked like morning was the beginning of endless night” ~ William Peter Blatty, The Exorcist

“I am like a small creature swallowed whole by a monster, she thought, and the monster feels my tiny little movements inside.” ~ Shirley Jackson, The Haunting of Hill House

“Broad daylight does not encourage the apprehension of horror.” ~ Guy de Maupassant

“On the morning of the exorcism, I stayed home from school.” ~ Paul Tremblay, A Head Full of Ghosts

“Dreading dusk, fearing night, praying for dawn.” ~ Gregory J. Saunders

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.” ~ Stanley Kubrick

And finally, as I am quoting horror, there are parts of Passing Place which people don’t like to read late at night. So a quote of my own…

girl in coridor new

Posted in amreading, amwriting, blogging, books, cthulhu, dreamlands, dystopia, Esqwiths, goodreads, Goth, horror, indie, Lovecraft, movies, Passing Place, pointless things of wonderfulness, quotes, reads, rites, supernatural, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

News from the Passing Place…

Morn was tending the bar on a lazy afternoon while the piano player played something which would have been a dirge at another time, but seemed remarkably joyful for some reason. Possibly this was to do with the cat which was dozing on the lid of the piano, its tail hanging limply across the back of the instrument, yet swaying in time to the beat.  There was hardly a customer in the old place, and Morn wondered, not for the first time, if Esqwith herself was also having a lazy day of it, but who could tell what passed through the mind of such an entity. Bored as she was, Morn was considering asking Greyman to watch the bar a while as it was quiet, and heading off to spend some quality time with her tree, when Sonny held the door open and through it stepped the scruff itinerant writer who passed through the bar once in a while. Morn, who found the customer both irritating and fascinating in equal measure, sighed to herself, rooted out a bottle of Jim from under the counter and had poured him a drink before he took his customer place on the corner barstool.

“What news?” she asked him if he was good for little else, he always had some snippets of interest from his world, which was fairly average as worlds go, but had at least not been eaten by an elder god the Thursday before…

Hi there.

Strange things are afoot, I’m busy with a couple of projects and have lots of little snippets of this and that to divulge. Snippets that don’t perhaps warrant a full blog post on there own, or that I have mentioned elsewhere, but news of one sort or another that I want to pass on. Because times they are exciting… Well for me at least.

Hannibal news…

The second Hannibal Smyth Novel, ‘From Russia With Tassels’ which carries on directly from the end of the first book, is finally completed in the first full draft. As ever, because it’s me, the first full draft is probably the 3rd draft for the most part of about two-thirds of the novel. At press, I am 40 odd pages into the technical 2nd draft/ final pre editor draft, which I am working through slowly. But hopefully, I am still somewhere approaching on target to release it in the summer (or early autumn)

Hannibal news 2…

For those wanting a little more Hannibal in the meantime, he features in a short story, set a few years before ‘A Spider In The Eye’ entitled ‘The Cheesecake Dichotomy’ in an anthology that is been released in two weeks time by Sixth Element Publishing, called ‘Harvey Duckman Presents’ which I am delighted to feature in alongside many other great writers, including several I have featured on my blog before.

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Signing news…

I’m actually doing a signing. I will be at SCS Scarbrough, in authors ally ( which is coincidently the bar…) on Saturday the 6th of April between 14:00 and 15:00 though I will be about in that area for most of the day. As well as my own books I’ll also have copies of the 6thE anthology which is being launched that weekend. Indeed many of the other writers from within that tome’s pages will also be there.

scarbrough

Passing Place news…

I am still, between other projects, working on the sequel to Passing Place ‘Something Red’, it’s taking a long time and has a lot further to go but there are about five chapters or so written, and the bulk of the project ( because a Passing Place novel is always a project) is planned in one form or the other. Hopefully, Morn will tell me a couple of stories if I hang about in Esqwiths for a few hours since I am there… Passing Place also now has a new cover.

passing place new cover

Maybe’s Daughter news…

The other novel I am currently working on is another steampunk novel set in the 1880s, the first of a duo of novels ( which may end up a trilogy, but currently, I only plan two)  It is about half written, and is with a Beta reader. Eventually, it will see the light of day.  It is a little more serious than Hannibal, which is simply because it’s not been narrated by Hannibal… It does feature Constable Perkins though, who is not the brightest value in the steam engine…

Blog news…

I set myself an aim this year to have the blog have more visitors, be more entertaining, and to be more successful than the first two years. Which is not to say the first two years failed to live up to my expectations. I just wanted this year to be more successful than last. So far it has been and has attracted more of you lovely readers each month than the equivalent months in previous years

Blogs roundup…

I follow a fair few other blogs, and seldom remember to mention them, so here’s a brief round-up of ones you should take a moment and look at…

C G Hattan’s blog ( as she has recently updated it) 

Meredith Debonnaire’s read alonga Discworld (sadly now Tantamountless, but hopefully one day it will return

Peter Jame martins Folklore blog, because who doesn’t like folk law

Tales to tide you over, because it throws up interesting stuff all the time

Posted in amreading, amwriting, blogging, books, Esqwiths, fiction, goodnews, goodreads, indie, indie novels, indiewriter, novels, opinion, Passing Place, pointless things of wonderfulness, publication, sci-fi, steampunk, writes, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Imposter Syndrome, SciFi Scarbrough & really wild things…

Confession time. I have never done a book signing.

Oh, I have signed books for people, I am more than happy to, though I am generally slightly bemused anyone wants me to sign a book. But I have never done a book signing. Or indeed any book-related event. I know it is the sort of thing an author should do. I know getting out there and meeting people, talking to them, and hopefully selling a few books is a good thing to be doing. But I never have for a couple of reasons.

The first is all it’s to do with imposter syndrome. You know the sort of thing. That nagging feeling you get that you don’t really belong somewhere. That you’re blagging it at work, or in some social gathering, in the book group you go to, or the semi-regular gathering of writers you attend, all the while hoping no one will spot that you’re just faking it, that you’re not really interesting, or know what your doing, or clever, or fun to be around. That assured knowledge, praying on the back of your mind, that the world will come crashing in around you and people who you hope may not have noticed they don’t like you very much will figure out that you really are a worthless individual, just faking his way through life, and tell you to sod off… And just because they haven’t yet, doesn’t mean they won’t do some time soon.

Almost everyone gets the occasional dose of imposter syndrome. I may even get it no worse than average, though I suspect that’s not the case because I get it rather a lot, about almost everything. I get it around people I have known for years, quite literally in fact. I go to a geeky boardgame convention in February each year and meet up with a bunch of people some of whom are among my best friends in the world. I have been going for something around twenty years, everyone there knows me, knows me better than my family in many cases. Yet I get those same imposter feelings every time, even there. So imagine just how much I have to cope with it in other places…

Over the years I have developed a lot of ways to combat this feeling. Not to mention the mild terror, and occasional shift towards depression that it sends me to. To be clear, imposter syndrome is not really a symptom of my occasional bouts with the old black dog, I get it whether I am suffering from a bout of depression or not. But when I am down in the dark cave imposter syndrome feels worse, pushes me further down and bites at my psyche with gnashing teeth of insecurity. But as I said I have developed my own ways to combat it. When I was younger, the favourite tactic was to be the loudest, brashest, and often just plain meanest person in the room. I was young, I was foolish, and while those two things are not mutually exclusive, age and wisdom have cured me of the worst of these excesses. That and developing a thicker skin, and learning to just let people take me as I am, rather than investing my anxieties and self-doubt into trying to be a person I’m not.

I’m still brash, I’m still a tad loud, and I am, for my sins, occasionally a little meaner than I intend to be.

I do however still suffer from imposter syndrome, and the utter terror of been found out. I can talk about it, just as I can talk about my episodes of depression. But that doesn’t stop either one of them nagging at me from time to time. But hell, I’m a writer, not a comedian, not an actor, not a musician. ( trust me on this, I may own a lot of guitars, but I can’t play any of them worth a damn.) So I spend my time at a keyboard, writing words and sending them out into the world in the vainglorious hope someone may deem fit to read them. I exist therefore in a bubble, where I don’t actually have to go engage with my audience. Which is good, as the thought of sitting behind a table talking to strangers about my books is one that terrifies me.

The other reason I have never done a book signing is more prosaic. No one has ever asked me to. (yes I could have set one or two up, talked to local book shops, investigated some book fairs, all kinds of things, but as long as no one asked me to do one I was safe in my little bubble of insecurity because I wouldn’t do so. Even though it is exactly the kind of thing, I should be doing.) And if no one ever asked me to do one, well then I was perfectly safe in that bubble, not doing them.

So, as I said I have never done a book signing…

So I will be at SFS SciFi Scarbrough on Saturday, April 6th, between 2:00pm and 3:00pm, behind a table in Authors Alley (handily located in the bar) signing copies of ‘A Spider in the Eye,’ ‘A Scar of Avarice’, ‘Passing Place,’ and possibly even the odd copy of ‘Cider Lane’.

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I will be skillfully hiding my imposter syndrome beyond the wit of any prospective reader by wearing a big hat with cogs on it. Trying not to feel like I have no business being there. Luckily no one will be expecting me because I’m not on the posters, but I will be there with Craig Hallam, Graham Rhodes and C G Hatton, who are. So pop along, if you happen to be there, or just in Scarborough. Buy a book or two and chat to some great authors ( and also me, the one in the big hat, possibly wearing goggles, a big coat and trying to hide under a cravat.)

As well as my own novels, I’ll have copies of the Harvey Duckman Anthology (which features a Hannibal story by me as well as stories by CG, Craig and several other writers who will be down there over the weekend) on the table, as the publishers Sixth Element are launching it that weekend. So it’s a one-off opportunity to get a copy of this awesome anthology signed by several of the writers… Which, you never know, may make it quite a collector’s item in years to come when some of the new writers in the anthology become the literary stars, or on the off chance anyone really cares about signed copies of my books. ( well you never know, just because my imposter syndrome tells me that will never happen doesn’t mean won’t )

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Anyway, if you get down to Scarbrough, I will be more than pleased to talk to you, and certainly not hiding in a corner. If not the anthology, is available for pre-order on Kindle, and my books, well you know how to find them (and if you don’t then click the links at the side.)

Adios for now.

Mark

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Research and the novelist

On occasion, prospective writers will ask for advice on how to become a better writer. Join any faceache writers group, and you will see a dozen questions of this type a day. Occasionally those asking such questions will even listen to the answers, though often the advice they receive is contradictory. Often however they will cherry-pick the advice they want, so some of the more valuable advice gets ignored, usually because it sounds a bit too much like hard work. the thing is, however, writing is hard work, and there are some bits of advice that are invaluable, which often prove to be the bits of advice most easily ignored.

For example:

Do your research, research everything in fact…

Which is one of my favourite bits of ignored advice, the most common response to which is:

But I write fiction…

Well, yes, so do I, But that doesn’t mean I don’t have to do research. Currently, I am writing the 2nd draft of the 2nd Hannibal Smyth Novel, which is steampunk set in the 200th year of Queen Seldom ‘bloody’ Amused reign. So a fiction, set in a fictional timeline. Which is to say I make a lot of things up. Yet still, I have to do my research. If for no other reason than because if I am trying to create a fictional world it still needs to be grounded enough in reality that it works within its own internal logic, otherwise no one will feel invested enough to ‘believe’ in that world, and suspend their disbelief while they read the novels.

Luckily I enjoy research, for the sake of research some times, and because it makes me a better writer. For example, this is a bit of a throw-away sojourn I was writing today. In which Hannibal explains why he changed his name from Harry.

No one likes an upstart. No one wants you to carve a better lot for yourself. A man who raised from the rank, why he was an insult to everyone who hadn’t.  Sure most rank and file airmen may hate officers who came from the upper classes, but at least they were born to it. Some toff-nosed twerp of an officer giving you gip, well that was to be expected, and hating them well that’s just what you did, it didn’t mean anything. But here’s the thing, toff-nosed officer types didn’t start out in the gutter with you and climb out of it while you just languished down there among the other turds. Toff-nosed twerps didn’t rub your nose in the fact you’ve never amounted to more than just a lowly airman shovelling coal into a boiler, while they swaggered about thinking they were better than they had a right to be.

Which, in case you have ever wondered, is why I changed my name to Hannibal from plain old Harry. Harry was a boiler stokers name, not a toff’s name, not an officers name. No one would ever call one of the heirs to the throne Harry, would they?

Now you may wonder why this needs any research. Even the last line is little more than a joke about the name of a certain real-world ginger-haired prince of the realm. Harry, you see is not a name which the Victorians would have associated with royalty. But on the other hand, would they have? Is it a joke that works within itself, or merely within my imagination? Does it actually make sense? And isn’t there that bit in Shakespeare about a Harry? Has there actually been a king Harry? Will anyone other than me obsess about one throwaway line amid a little sojourn off the main plot for a couple of paragraphs?

Well, the answer to the last question is in all probability, no, no one will care. But I do. As for a couple of questions before that, well the Shakespeare in question ( and yes I had to look it up to be sure) is from a speech from Henry V, Act III

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So why does Henry the fifth say ‘Harry’ and who is he referring to? Well, the simple answer is he is referring to himself, (again I had to look this up). There never has been a King Harry. However, Harry is often used as a nickname for the various Henry’s. In fact, Harry was not until recently a real name at all, but merely a nickname for people called Henry. Much like until recent times no one was ever actually called Bill, it was merely a shortening of William, (more research). The upper classes in late Victorian times, royalty, in particular, would not name a child with what is a common nickname. Though they may refer to each other within common parlance, Sticky Vic often referred to Prince Albert as her ‘dearest Bertie’ for example. The point being, Harry is not a name the Victorians would associate with princes… So that last line works and makes sense beyond just amusing me. You see research is good…

Oddly enough, (and again thanks to research) our dear recently wed Prince Harry, is also not called Harry… His real name is Henry Charles Albert David Winsor. So in the now unlikely event that both his brother and his brother children did not succeed his father’s mother, and Prince Harry ascended to the throne of dear old England, he would be Henry IX, and England would still not have a Harry for a king…

Harry you see, thanks to research, remains a boiler stokers name…

 

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Harvey Duckman presents…

Harvey Duckman presents is the first in a series of collected works of suspense and mystery in the genres of science fiction, fantasy, horror and steampunkery, called, oddly enough Harvey Duckman Presents…

This anthology features work by exciting new voices in speculative fiction, including both established authors, previously unpublished writers and oddly enough one by me.

A story from Hannibal’s Smyth’s early days when all he had to worry about was people spiking his drinks with LSD and challenging him to duals over piddling matters concerning cheesecake… Oh for the simpler times before Mechanical eye-spiders, Russian Air- Pirates, Bad Pennys, Steam powered camels, Brass Samurai, Mad Scientists, The Ministry and Sleepmen…

I am of course excited to have one of my stories published in an anthology beside a lot of other great writers, but what I am really  looking forward to reading all the other stories myself when I get my copy, which includes tales by several authors I have read and reviewed here before as well as several that are new to me. As I am sure you can guess I love nothing more than discovering new writers. Except perhaps tell people about them when I find them. So here’s a chance to discover some new indie writers yourself, and plunge into whole new worlds…

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Volume 1 includes stories by: Kate Baucherel, D.W. Blair, A.L. Buxton, R. Bruce Connelly, Nate Connor, Marios Eracleous, Paul Goodchild, Craig Hallam, C.G. Hatton, Mark Hayes, Peter James Martin, Reino Tarihmen, J.L. Walton, Graeme Wilkinson and Amy Wilson.

It’s available for Kindle on preorder here or on the picture above…

EDIT:  I just realised I only included the UK link, For those on other shores here is the Amazon.com link 

 

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Stocktaking…

March is here, the daffodils have poked their heads out in my garden, winter is tailing off into spring and the anniversary of the death of Caesar looms soon upon us. It is at this time of year, because some forty-nine years ago as the swinging sixties gave way to the soon to be disgruntled seventies that I was born on the ide’s of March, I find myself taking stock of the last year or so. It’s a good time to do so, not least because I will soon be a year older, and it is a wise thing to take stock at such times.

The last year has been a somewhat hectic affair, at least in regards to my writing. This time last year I was still struggling away with a manuscript that was to become the basis for two novels. My enthusiasm for this blog was taking a bit of a dip, as the day job was in the middle of a rather busy period and I had less time for random witterings. That dip in enthusiasm was reflected in the visitor figures here February and March last year as well, which were down quite a bit on previous years. Added to this my second novel Passing Place had been in print for over eighteen months and while it was held in high regard by those that read it, I would be lying if I was to claim it had been as successful as I had originally hoped.

I was, in all honesty, starting to get a little disheartened with writing, as many writers do from time to time. Things did not pick up until mid-March when I found the spark that had been missing. A spark which came from the first of two big idea’s which took me out of my slump and stupour and got be back behind the keyboard again.

That first spark was the realisation I had a much bigger manuscript on my hands that I had planned with the novel that at the time had the ponderous title ‘The Wells of Time’. I realised I needed to shorten it somewhat and also realised that one second of it while a fun little story in its own right, had no real reason for been there, in that it added nothing much to the greater tale. So I took it out and decided to build a novella around it, by making it a tale told in Esqwiths Passing Place, and writing a couple of short Passing place chapters to go either side of it. As ever, this simple plan grew in the making and became a mini-anthology, with the novella joined by three short stories, and becoming a little novelette, which I published in June last year, ‘A Scar of Avarice‘ which has done quite well all things considered.

The next spark of inspiration was that ‘The Wells of Time’, ponderous pun of a title aside was still too long to be a single novel, As after ‘Scar’ was taken out the manuscript still grew as I wrote what will be the final chapters of what will become in time the second Hannibal Smyth novel. So I decided the best thing to do was to split the novel in two. Which led to ‘A Spider in the Eye‘ been published in January this year as the first of a series of novels featuring my steampunk anti-hero Hannibal Smyth, while I am currently working on the last couple of chapters of the second of these novels which will hopefully be out sometime this summer.

There were other cool things over the last year. For one, I got asked to write an introduction to the collected edition of the Thieves Guild novels by C G Hatton, which I considered to be a bit of a honour all things considered. For another, I have a short story (more Hannibal stuff) being included in an anthology due out next month. This blog, after the slump of the first quarter last year has gone from strength to strength, with more people reading, liking and commenting than ever before. I’ve also had so much more support and positive feedback than I’d had previously. Along with this my twitter following, my Facebook following and just people taking an interest, in general, has improved all around. Other odd stats have started springing up, I got a mail from Amazon yesterday telling me that views of reviews I have written for other people have gone past the 5000 mark. Which is oddly gratifying as I only post Amazon reviews for indie authors whose novels I really enjoy. So it good to know they don’t just become words out there in the void, and that other writers are hopefully seeing the benefit of those reviews…

So, taking stock of the last year, as a writer it has been far more successful than the one before and I am in a far happier place as an author than I found myself in early March 2018. There is a long way to go, a lot of work to do, and many a new reader to find. But as a stocktake goes, this has been a happy one.

It also, hopefully, will serve to give a little inspiration to any fellow writer reading this who is feeling a little down on their writing, a few short months can make a world of difference, so don’t let the odd set back make you throw in the towel.

adios for now

 

Mark

 

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The writer’s ambition: Riftmaker

When writers settles down to write their first novels, and I am as guilty of this as anyone, they occasionally bite off more than they can chew. They envision something broad and sweeping, with multiple characters all interacting through multiple threads of plot. Something epic… and in doing so, they sometimes come unstuck. Having read a lot of first novels by small press and indie writers, in particular, I have come across more than one example of perfectly good writers who reach too far and in trying to write such a broad scope they fall into too many traps along the way.

Indeed a lot of the time what happens when a new writer, full of fresh-faced enthusiasm try’s to write something of epic proportions with a host of characters and sprawling interweaving plot lines is they get themselves tied in knots and their great epic gathers dust in the virtual slush pile that is a writers hard drive, while they move on and start over on something new with a narrower scope that easier to handle. (I have read a few of these as well as once in a while someone asks me to alpha read a partially finished work).

This is what happened with my own attempts at the wild sprawl, and somewhere in the middle of a maze I built around myself I stopped and wrote Cider Lane instead, which is just as complex but only has two main POV characters and tight plot lines. It wasn’t till I had written Cider lane than I went back to the wild sprawl and having learned a lot of lessons about my own limitations as a writer and how to push them, the wild sprawl became Passing Place, which tells the story of one character from that wild sprawl, while he interacts with all the other characters from that original sprawl.

Why am I talking about wild sprawls and the difficulties they present? Well, that’s because on occasion you come across a new writer’s first novel where they have done something utterly unique and inspired, and done so in exactly the kind of wild sprawl that so many other writers fail utterly to pull off.

Pheobe Darqueling, an American writer, living in Germany, or possibly at the centre of the worldwide steampunk web, is the exception that proves the rule. She manages in Riftmaker to pull off that most elusive of things and tames the wild sprawl epic of her imagination.

There are a number of main characters, it would be hard to pick out one and call them ‘the main character’. Each of them are fully realised individuals, they each have their own motivations, desires, personalities, secrets, backstories and moments when you cheer them along, or shake your head at there foolishness, or laugh at the little quirk of theirs which rings true. And importantly they are all different, none of them is a cardboard cut out, they all live and breath on the pages, they are all, to use entirely the wrong word all considered, are very human…

The novel bounces about between all these different characters and their own little plots and sub-plots, their dreams and desires, and their primal urges yet as a reader you never feel lost, the chapters are short, the action keeps moving, and interweaving this character and that character, and overlapping plot lines. Indeed the novel bounces along like an excited puppy at times, which may be something to do with the excited puppy, newly reborn by accidentally walking through a rift between worlds as a human being running around getting confused by the strange world he has found himself in as well as the strange body that is now his.

That’s the most unique idea in this novel, rifts between worlds are a well-established trope, hell the wardrobe to Narnia is just a rift between worlds at the end of the day, but in Buddy’s universe when you cross through a rift you don’t just move to a new world, you change form. Animals become human, and humans become animals. Indeed it works both ways, and it is hinted that at the core of every human is a true animal form, so even as a human, they have aspects of the animal they would become were they to pass through the rift and vice versa. But it is far from the only unique idea within these pages.

Many of the characters are fresh looks at old archetypes but none the worse for that, each character has their own unique personality, their own strengths and weaknesses, there own issues and prejudices. Yet they manage to come alive in your imagination, one of the problems with having so many characters is they can tend to blur together for a reader but Pheobe manages to keep them all separate in your mind, as the story continues to bounces along, and importantly it is splendid fun into the bargain.

My cynical writer’s eye did find the odd little plot hole, but then the more I write myself, the more I find plot holes everywhere in fiction of all forms. I mention this only because what happens with plot holes in some other novels I have read is they break my immersion, but with the best novels, as with Riftmaker, even when you stumble over a plot hole you just find you have ploughed on without really registering the flaw, and that is the mark of something really special.

I could say a lot more, I’m not going to. Instead, I am just going to I’ll just link the preview at the bottom and encourage you to read the free preview yourselves, I don’t generally give out scores for books ( other than Lovecraft). As I don’t review books I would not give five stars to, and this is definitely a five-star novel, so give your imagination a treat and go lose yourself in the world of rifts human animals, animal humans, and cog wheeled glory that is this wide sprawl of wonderfulness…

 

 

enjoy

Mark

 

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I Love books…

I learned to wonder at a tender age, wandering through a wardrobe, to a lamppost in the snow.
I  learned of courage on the walls of the deep while an elf and dwarf bickered in the face of a white wizard’s horde.
I wandered the dark streets a man must walk, with a troll, a werewolf and a lipstick-wearing dwarf, and much did  I laugh there.
I learned good parenting from Atticus, as a Mockingbird was slain and a little about what’s right in the pages of the same.
I crossed great epic landscapes build of words in print, with a slinger of guns and his ka-tet I learned of doings and the done.
I learned of passion and love, from a moor top tale, of a house all alone, in a wuthering gale.
I love books…

I learned to be a good companion from a hobbit or two, a wizard or three,  a brace of dwarfs and a walking tree.
I learned to dream counting of electric sheep, of Fahrenheit that paper burns, and hitchhiking through the stars in search of the question to an answer comprised of four and two.
I felt those shivers in the dark, that tingle down my spine from time spend with Pennywise and others that cause a fearful joyful frown.
I laughed and remember that still brings a smile I always found, when death SPEAKS and the wee free men are charging all around.
I fend my inner cynic of this watching world, when I learned from Winston’s brother as the daily hate is unfurled.
I wondered at Nemo, the captain, not the fish, and all those Never-where and Never-when and Oceans at the end of lanes
I love books…

In truth, however, I never could abide poetry…

 

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