Jonathan Posner's Blog, page 6

The Thursday Book Club

The first broadcast of The Thursday Book Club was on 21st September 2023 at 2pm on Phonic FM. The panel were Cathie Hartigan, Angela Wooldridge and Jonathan Posner. Click the names to find out more about their works, and use the audio bar below to listen to the full show.

https://jonathanposnerauthor.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/TBC-Show-1-21-09-23.mp3

The books reviewed were The Curious Kidnapping of Nora W by Cate Green, proposed by Cathie; Swordheart by T Kingfisher, proposed by Angela; and Betrayal of Trust by C. V. Lee, proposed by Jonathan.

There was also a discussion on the difference between plotters and pantsers (pantsers are writers who make it up as they go along. Sort of ‘by the seat of their pants’.) Jonathan was definitely a pantser, and Angela a ‘plantser’ – somewhere in between. Cathie was also somewhere in between – and said she is a very strict editor of her own work.

The next show will be on 19th October at 2pm UK time.

The post The Thursday Book Club appeared first on Jonathan Posner.

The Amethyst Project

 

For such a modern organisation, the Amethyst Project was housed in a decidedly old building.

I moved my head as far as I could over my shoulder. “It looks as if it was built back in the 2020s,” I muttered.

“Shh now, dad,” my daughter replied. “You’ll love it.”

“So you keep telling me,” I said. “But I remain to be convinced.”

“Anya says her father thinks it’s the best thing he ever did. He calls it ‘Heaven’.”

“The concept of Heaven is a load of old tosh,” I said. “Outdated religious nonsense.”

“Some people still believe in it.”

“Gullible fools, then, clinging to the past.”

Petal didn’t answer; we’d had this conversation too many times before.

She wheeled me up to the front door, which was one of those early 21st century sliding glass affairs.

“It doesn’t even have a laser door,” I muttered, as she pushed me in. A shiny white bot slid over, its backlit eyes gleaming. It paused a moment as it made a retinal scan of us both.

“Mr Jayden Smith and Mrs Petal Singh,” it announced, in the slightly soft tone they build into these things. The sort of tone that’s so bloody soothing it sets your teeth on edge.

“Yes, my father is here to sign in,” Petal said. She put on her most cheerful voice, which I think was more for my benefit than the bot’s.

“Excellent,” it cooed.

“He’s very excited about this,” she added.

I was going to call this out for the bollocks it was, when the bot emitted a low-pitched rumble that made me momentarily forget what I was about to say.

“Of course,” it exclaimed to Petal, seeming to dial up its own excitement to the same level as hers. Someone must have added a Neuro Linguistic programme to its chip. “Our clients are always most satisfied with our service.” It slid silently across the shiny floor. “Please follow me. It will be my pleasure to give you a detailed introduction to our facility.”

Petal pushed me after it, and we went through an arch into what seemed to be a sensory room. There was a large lava lamp display set into the flock paper wall, ambient purple lighting and more cushions than an Amazon-Wayfair Homeware store.

“Please enter this short presentation,” it said, as two VR headsets descended from the ceiling. “We find it easier to explain in VR, but please be assured, it reflects the reality of our service.” Once Petal had plugged the lead into my neck port and settled the visor over my head, I sat back with a sigh.

“Let’s see what this is all about, then,” I muttered.

The screens flickered and suddenly I was in a brightly-lit white corridor, floating silently towards a pair of old-fashioned double doors. A young woman in a flowery dress appeared, smiling. The kind of dress Flora used to wear when we first met. I gave a small gasp; it was Flora; the very image of her in her early twenties. The machine must have been reading my memories via my implant chip. A lump came into my throat; it was difficult to see her like that, not as the 90 year-old I had held in my arms as she slipped away over thirty years ago.

“Hello Jayden,” Flora said. “How nice to see you. I am so excited to show you how Amethyst can ease you into your eternal life.” She held open the doors and I floated into what seemed to be a longer, wider corridor, with thousands of recessed shelves set at all levels on both sides.

As I entered, I eased myself round to check that Petal was with me. She was there, giving me the sickly indulgent look that she reserved only for me and her great great grand-children when they were being particularly mischievous.

I turned back to Flora, who was waiting by the first of the shelves. I drifted over, and she gave me a beaming smile; the one that used to have my belly doing somersaults. I had never stopped missing her every day for the last thirty years. Seeing her as she was when we first met did nothing to help.

If anything it made it worse.

“This is how you will be able to enjoy eternity at the Amethyst Project.” She gestured at the shelf and I looked in. There was a glass jar inside, with something pink and bulbous floating in a cloudy liquid. Tubes fed in and out of the jar and lots of wires were attached to the outside. “In the last two years,” Flora said, becoming more serious, “we have perfected the ability to remove a healthy brain from a body that has been overtaken by advanced age, and keep it permanently alive in this solution. We can then stimulate all the centres that process the senses – those of sight, sound, touch, smell and taste, with an AI programme that gives it the complete perception that it is in a young, healthy body. It retains all its memories – aided by its chip, of course – and as it is the actual brain, it retains its full personality as well.” She smiled again. “Many years ago, when men held on to the belief systems they called religions, this included the quaint concept of the ‘soul’. We know now this was just a combination of the personality, memory and the sense of self that derives from consciousness.” She paused, looking as if she was checking we were still with her. I nodded. “But here it is the actual brain processing this information.” She gestured at the jar. “So it retains its soul.”

“As against if you simply downloaded all its memories onto a chip?” Petal asked. “The chip would know everything you know, but it wouldn’t be you. It would have no consciousness or sense of self?”

“Precisely,” Flora answered.

Petal turned to me. “She’s right,” she observed. “That makes sense.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said to Flora. “You will take my brain out of this failed old body and plug it in to your machine. I will then think, feel and experience life as I was a hundred years ago?”

Flora nodded with her head slightly on one side, just like she used to. “Correct. And the AI programme will do whatever you want it to – all the things that perhaps you longed to achieve, but never managed. Go into space? No problem. Star in a bestselling feature reel? It can happen.”

“And me and the family?” Petal asked. “Will we still be able to see Dad?”

“Of course, you can log into his AI world any time you want, and be a part of his life. Your father will never die; you can talk to him in real time whenever you want, and the person you will be talking to will actually be him.” She gestured at the brain in the jar behind her. “Just as you are talking to him now, except that his brain is still in his head. All we’ll be doing is preserving it while the old body is discarded.”

Petal turned to me with a triumphant look. “I told you this was a good thing, Dad,” she said.

“And will you be there, Flora?” I asked.

“Yes. But the Flora of your memories.” She hesitated a moment. “The real one died before memory chips were first used, so we don’t have her data; only yours.”

I thought this through. In my memory she was always smiling; always happy. All the bad stuff – like the arguments, the folded-arm huffs or the inexplicable mood swings – those had faded into a vague, easily forgotten blur.

“So you and Mum can be together forever, Dad,” Petal said. I felt her hand grasp mine. “And you’ll both be young, fit and active again, like you were in the 21st century.”  She squeezed my hand. “I told you it was heaven,” she said.

Young Flora in her pretty dress came round to stand in front of me.

“Forever?” I asked. “You mean that?”

She nodded.

Then there was only one more thing to say.

“Where do I sign?”

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My character interviews me…

I have an exclusive interview for you – and it’s my character Mary Fox, Tudor adventuress, who is asking me the questions!

Mary Fox is the 17-year-old heroine of an adventure novel called The Broken Sword. I’m now writing her next adventure, called The Tudor Prince.

I have taken a break from writing to have a little chat with Mary, and let her ask me some questions about my writing process, and what it means for her as a character.

And seeing as she is somewhat feisty, the interview did not go quite as I expected…

Mary Fox
You are Jonathan, the man who tells my stories?

Jonathan
That’s me. Yes.

Mary Fox
And you’re currently writing the second of my adventures – The Tudor Prince?

Jonathan
Yes. I am about a quarter of the way through the first draft.

Mary Fox
And I assume, like the first book, The Broken Sword, I will be doing lots of fighting with my sword? Lots of dispatching of evil men to meet with Satan in hell? Lots of pretending to be a boy and wearing boy’s garb?

Jonathan
Of course – it’s what makes you… you.

Mary Fox
Oh, and what exactly am I? Since you have the power to make me whatever you want?

Jonathan
Actually, I don’t think I do.

Mary Fox
I beg your pardon? Please explain.

Jonathan
Well, I started you off with only the expectation that you would be brave, honourable, principled, kind and generous. That sort of thing. Oh, and handy with a sword. That always helps with a leading character in the 1530s.

Mary Fox
(Shrugs) Well, I am happy to be all those things. But why do you feel they constrain you?

Jonathan
Because once I start you off on an adventure, you seem to take over. As I say, you are who you are and I can’t change you. I – and my readers – have expectations!

Mary Fox
Expectations?

Jonathan
Exactly. A Mary Fox adventure has action and danger on almost every page. It’s you getting out of impossible situations by the skin of your teeth. It’s you challenging the male-dominated society, because you’re a girl who does what she pleases, without ever submitting to a man like other girls of her era. That’s exciting for modern readers.
It should be exciting for you too.

Mary Fox
It is, but it means I have to be clever and quick witted. Otherwise how could I find a way out of all the life-or-death situations you seem so keen to put me in? Like the time you put me in a pitch-black box cart with a squeaky wheel for a journey of many hours over the roughest of roads? Or the time you had me sword-fighting for my life on top of said cart? Or when you had me bargaining – again for my life – with sailors who wanted to throw me overboard? Shall I go on?

Jonathan
No, no. That’s enough. I get the picture.

Mary Fox
I do not think you do, actually. I am forever having to think my way out of the danger you put me in.

Jonathan
You think that’s easy for me?

Mary Fox
(Drawing sword) What do you mean? I am the one in danger!

Jonathan
(Holding up hands) Put that thing away! What I was going to say is; it’s me that has to get you out of danger!

Mary Fox
No you do not. You are sitting comfortably with your cup of hot drink that you call ‘coffee’, plus a packet of some confection you call ‘Chocolate Hobnobs’ – while you tap most loudly with two fingers on the brightly-lit ‘laptop’ contraption. Whereas I am the one who is forever facing the most extreme peril, that I must find a way out of.

Jonathan
Exactly. But you don’t find your way out of any peril, unless I come up with the answer. The truth is, Mary, my fiesty young heroine – the clever, resourceful ideas that take you a moment to think of, actually take me days of pondering and scribbling alternatives in my notebook. Any many, many, MANY Chocolate Hobnobs to help me think. Not a clever, scheming thought passes through your head unless I put in there.

Mary Fox
Oh charming. Charming! So I’m a teenaged girl who cannot think for herself, but has to have some crusty old man scratching his beard and thinking for me? Oh, per-lease!

Jonathan
A crusty old man who created you in the first place. I think a little gratitude wouldn’t go amiss, young lady. A little ‘thank-you’?

Mary Fox
(Pause) I think you and I both know that is not going to happen.

Jonathan
Please yourself (sighs and takes bite of Hobnob).

Mary Fox
Anyway, you said that once you start me off on an adventure, I take over. How does that square with what you just said about having to think for me?

Jonathan
Hmm. Good point. I think it’s because danger, action and adventure always seem to happen around you. But then you need to find a way out and that’s where I come in. I have to help you be the clever schemer I know you are.

Mary Fox
You clearly get a thrill from seeing just how far you can push me.

Jonathan
Yeah. Sorry about that.

Mary Fox
And this latest adventure; The Tudor Prince. You say you are around a quarter the way through. How many near-death experiences have I had so far?

Jonathan
That would be telling. But I will say there’s an old enemy who pops up again – one who vowed to kill you if he ever found you.

Mary Fox
That hardly narrows the field. You ended the first book with at least four characters sworn to kill me.

Jonathan
(Smiles) Always like to keep you guessing, Mary Fox!
Fancy a Hobnob?*

* Other modern-day chocolatey confections are available.

 

Would you like to read Mary’s first adventure?

You can easily get it from Amazon – use this link to order on your local Amazon in eBook or paperback. Also links to Barnes & Noble.

Or do you already subscribe to Kindle Unlimited? Use the same link to read for FREE.

Signed paperback copies

Alternatively, these can be ordered for UK delivery via the web Bookstore.

The post My character interviews me… appeared first on Jonathan Posner.

Guns in America

We live in an age where news is global.

If I want to know what’s going on in the world as I get outside my bowl of porridge in the morning, I have multiple sources. As a Brit, there are the TV channels like the BBC, Sky and Al-Jazeera – but increasingly now, I find myself glued to the smaller screen. The social platforms are an excellent source of interesting news, because they learn – or I tell them – what interests me. The ‘For You’ stream on TikTok, for example, has fine-tuned itself to become an invaluable source of information on subjects close to my heart – like anti-democratic Christo-fascism, the advancement of atheism and (for my day job) the world of historical fiction / book publishing. Also Substack, the very platform that you’re reading this on, gives me the chance to choose precisely the opinion pieces and viewpoints I want to hear.

This means the news I get is interest-based rather than geographical – which is why I find myself increasingly being drawn into the world of US politics, almost on a domestic level. I am fascinated to know more about the 2024 presidential election, and especially how the Republican party is being hamstrung into endorsing the wannabe fascist dictator Trump.

Trump. Here in the UK, we generally see him as a figure of ridicule. Our TV stations seem to think it is best to play into this, showing footage of yee-haw MAGA rednecks who believe that all the bad press, lawsuits and criminal charges are nothing more than a ‘socialist’ conspiracy to discredit him. All this gives us a bit of a one-sided view of what Americans think of Trump. One British man even phoned in to a talk show the other day shouting ‘Trump 2024!’ and ‘four more years! But thankfully, I am now seeing the other side of this, courtesy of my social algorithms.

Through them I am getting a refreshing perspective on how rational, sane Americans are responding to Trump and the Republican Christo-fascists – and it is heartening to see that they are making their voices heard. A trans kid stood up before a State legislature (I forget which), and told them how their campaign of hate and marginalisation is affecting innocent lives. A powerful lady called Pamela Stevenson makes impassioned and compelling speeches in Kentucky – sadly to Republican law-makers who seem to have their fingers in their ears (or their hearing aids switched off). An ex-astronaut told a Republican in a candidate debate that he had no right forcing his ill-informed views on experts in their fields, and this person looked down his nose at the astronaut – one of the most supremely competent people on, or off, this planet – as if he was a piece of dirt.

So I am pleased that I am getting to understand American politics from more of a balanced domestic viewpoint.

But I did not grow up in America, so there is still one topic that I find very hard to understand.

And that is – guns.

[Read more here]

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My books are now available

I am pleased to announce that my books are now available to buy at St. Nicholas Priory, The Mint, Exeter, EX4 3BL.

St. Nicholas Priory is Exeter’s oldest building, and is where heritage, culture and creativity meet.

Founded by William the Conqueror in 1087 as a priory and later turned into a rich merchant’s town house, the priory has now been made accessible to the public to visit. You can explore the priory for free on Sundays and Mondays, or look out for their many events throughout the year [see their website here].

And you can buy one of my Tudor action adventure novels while you’re there!

The post My books are now available appeared first on Jonathan Posner.

Taxes in the Ice Age

My last couple of posts have been prompted by the deeply un-democratic and troubling actions of the US Republicans, which I sent up in my new smash hit stage show, Trump! The Musical (see Act One here and Act Two here).

But something happened last week which was so gob-smackingly appalling, so mind-blowingly incredible, that it went far beyond satire. Something that made even Trump’s suggestion that people should inject bleach to combat COVID, seem almost acceptable. Yep, that bad.

I am, of course, talking about the poster-girl for monumental stupidity that is Marjorie Taylor Greene (Rep. GA). In a recent House Committee hearing, this amazing woman hit such hitherto unreached levels of ignorance (even for someone presumably educated by creationists), that I feel I have to comment on it.

[Read more here]

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Trump! The Musical

As someone who has written a few musical shows, and regularly broadcasts showtunes on the radio, I can’t help thinking how the US Republican movement, with its over-the-top characters and pantomime villains, seems to have all the makings of a dystopian musical. So here’s the outline of my new show Trump! The Musical.

ACT ONE is here

ACT TWO is here

The post Trump! The Musical appeared first on Jonathan Posner.

New book launches on 31-Mar-23

The Lawyer’s Legacy launches on 31st March 2023

A MAJOR REBELLION IS STARTING
ONLY THEY CAN STOP IT.

My new action adventure novel launches on 31st March 2023.

The Lawyer’s Legacy tells the origin story of Robert Wychwoode, the character who appears in all three books of The Witchfinder’s Well trilogy.

I really enjoyed writing this book – getting into the head of young Robert Wychwoode, and seeing how he lays the foundation of his future career as a lawyer and spymaster – and becomes the consummate planner of my later books.

I also enjoyed writing his girlfriend – a headstrong, opinionated and independent young girl who is the perfect foil for Robert. She’s prepared to lead him on when it suits her purpose, while knowing if it all becomes too dangerous, he will always have her back. As ever, I like to create female characters who act more like modern girls than Tudor conformists – always refusing to accept the patriarchal norms and doing what they know is right instead!

I can see more books about Robert as a youngster – I still have thirty years of his life to fill before we meet him in The Witchfinder’s Well!

See more on the book here.

Order your copy on Amazon here (USA) or here (UK and rest of the world)

 

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Poetic justice for Trump?

Or, what does it take to get arrested in New York?

 

As I write this, Donald Trump hasn’t yet been arrested, although I suspect (and rather hope) that by the time you get to read it, he will have been.

Speaking as an interested observer of the US political scene (ever since I did A Level Politics at a time when Jimmy Carter was handing the White House keys to Ronald Reagan – and yes I know, that dates me), I find myself wondering why it has taken so long for the old boy to have his collar felt by the authorities.

I suspect there are two reasons: 1. Because Trump has predicted the timing. By delaying the arrest it shows he’s wrong yet again. And 2. They want to be sure that there’s no way he can use it to his political advantage. And given his legendary ability to make up whatever he thinks will play well with his MAGA power base, they will need to have to have a cast iron case; one that he cannot spin into presenting him as the victim. Rather it needs to show that he is a clear-cut criminal. A bit like getting Al Capone for tax evasion. And it will be interesting to see if his MAGA meatheads will have his back if he is indicted. I rather think not; they do appear to have learned the lessons of January 6th – if you take part in insurrectionist protest, you’re liable to get arrested yourself. As I understand it, the only protest so far in New York has been against Trump. Hopefully that will give the District Attorney Alvin Bragg the reassurance he needs to crack on with the indictment.

[Read more here]

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Woke up and smell the Cappucino

Guest post by an AI Bot

There has been a lot of interest recently in the capabilities of AI (Artificial Intelligence) to take over creative writing from humans.

Being rather tight on time this week (new book launching at the end of March, if you’re asking), I thought I would take a breather, and hand the writing duties over to an AI Bot. I mean, how hard can it be to knock out one of my 5 Minute Break blogs? I know what you’re thinking – not hard at all. A few f-word expletives, some bewildered old codger -isms and a couple of digs at Christianity. Piece of cake for a super intelligent bot.

And it does all seem terribly simple. Firstly you sit it down and make it read all your previous work, so it gets to understand your style. Can computers feel pain? Apparently they can. So I threw in a couple of my Tudor historical fiction books as well, to give it something a bit meatier to get its electronics into. To give it a wider perspective, so to speak.

[Read more here]

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