Richard Dee's Blog, page 95

The guest bloggers of August, Part Two.

Today, my guest is Ria Constable.

 

Readers of Myra and Freefall will know all about her, but for the rest of you, she’s from Wishart, loves bright colours and has been with Griff Alyoushan for a long time. Dave Travise first met her when he went with Rixon to buy Freefall. She met Griff when he bought Dave and Myra a load of spares as they worked on the ship.

We met up on New Devon, where she lives and runs a shipping agency with Griff. As usual, she was dressed in bright colours, with the trademark shells woven into her hair, but she was strangely subdued, at least to start with.

“Hi Ria, thanks for inviting me over.” I started, she had made tea and there was also a plate of the biscuits that New Devon was famous for.

She smiled, “It’s great to finally meet you, I’m a bit worried about what you might ask me though.”

“Nothing you wouldn’t want to answer,” I tried to reassure her, “if you don’t like the question, just ignore it.”

“OK, she said, brightening up. I wondered then what she had to hide. “Where do you want to start?”

“Just tell us about growing upon Wishart,” I suggested, “what you did when you were young.”

“There was just me and my father, Evan,” she said. “He had a farm on one of the islands; I never knew my mother, only pictures and a bit of video.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “so you didn’t have any siblings?”

“No, it was just me and father. Life was pretty good if a little constricting. I did school over the web, I always wanted to be an engineer. My father had an old Sprite, the scout ship, it was kept in the big barn. At first, he told me that he had found it, later I discovered that he had served on it in the Holy Wars.”

That had been a long while ago, it had resulted in the destruction of the capital city on Wishart; everyone knows that story. (If you don’t you can find the article from Galactographic! Magazine HERE)

“I had to get him drunk,” Ria continued, “before he would tell me all about it. He told me that the crew had mutinied and landed it there. He must have been one of them, but he wouldn’t say what he had actually done. The island was uninhabited then, the farmers must have gone off to serve. The officers on the Sprite had been killed and dumped in the sea, the rest of the crew disappeared. Father was tired of running and as there was a deserted farm on the island, he decided to take it over.”

That was some story, “and nobody ever came back to claim it?”

“No,” she said, ” we found out later, some were lost in the war, the rest had all been in Brethrens Host at the end.”

And we all knew how that had ended up!

“Where did your mother come into the story?”

“They met up when he took the first harvest to market, it must have been love at first sight because she came out here to be with him.”

“And what happened to her?” As I asked, I wished that I hadn’t.

She welled up, “I don’t want to talk about that,” she said sniffing back tears.

“Sorry,” I said, “then what?”

“I grew up, my father tried to teach me about farming, all I wanted to do was fly the Sprite away from the farm and explore the Galaxy. I learned about it from the web, how to fly it and repair it. I even lifted it off the ground a couple of times. Father could see that I wasn’t going to be a farmer, he humoured me, told me that I could take it and go when I was old enough. But I couldn’t get away, there was always some reason. In the end, I gave up trying to leave, we would just argue all the time.”

“But you did get away?”

“When Rixon came to buy the Sprite I was shocked, I thought it was the ultimate betrayal. I thought that it meant that I could never leave. That I would be trapped forever on the farm.”

But it wasn’t like that?”

“No, I saw Dave and Myra, they were nice people, I worked out a plan, I was going to go with them when they left, not tell father. Then I met Griff.”

“And?”

“He was amazing, if that was how my parents felt when they met, now it had happened to me I could understand it. I would have done anything to stay with him. Then I thought; what if Dave and Myra won’t take me? I’ll never be with him. So in the end, to make sure that they couldn’t refuse, I stowed away when they left.”

“And you’ve never regretted it?”

Never, we’ve had our ups and downs, Griff losing his arm wasn’t the problem other people thought it would be. At least he was still alive, a little thing like that won’t stop us. Myra and I got on really well, that’s another story.”

“Myra? Wasn’t there some awful story there?”

Ria looked like she would cry again. ”Will you tell me about that?”

“No,” she said. “I’m sorry; there are some secrets that need to be kept until the right time, the same as some promises.”

“What promises?”

“There have been a lot of things that happened, Myra, Rixon and Messinya, that’s Myra’s mother, have all influenced my life in different ways. I’ve said and done things that I will have to justify. I once thought that I was helping a friend and it turned out badly. And before you ask; I won’t tell you about them either.”

“You might one day though?”

Ria smiled, “Maybe, you’ll just have to wait and see.”

~~~~

So there you are, Ria is a complex lady, with a lot more to tell than she lets on. It would be a shame if a story as fascinating as hers was not completed someday.

Note: After this interview I discovered that Ria was preparing to enlarge on the story, to add to the part she had in the novels Freefall and Myra. Rumour has it that everything would be explained in a new book, provisionally entitled Promise me, which was in the process of preparation.

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It’s competition time!

Would you like to win a copy of my first Steampunk adventure? And get an early copy of my next short story collection?

Then read on.

I was intending to post the second of my August series of interviews with characters today, but I have been reminded of an anniversary.

It will be a year ago on September 1st that my Steampunk adventure, The Rocks of Aserol was published.

 

 

 

As it happens, the sequel to that story, called A New life in Ventis is undergoing its final edit and preparation for release in late October this year. The sequel was written after a lot of readers asked for more of the story; it carries on straight after the events that closed the first book.

The cover is a work in progress, I’m hoping to have it ready to reveal in September.

I digress (what’s new?), I have FIVE copies of The Rocks of Aserol to give away, in epub or mobi format to names which I will pick at random from the entries.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Also, I have a book of steampunk short stories called Tales from Norlandia that I will be sending to all entrants on the closing day. The collection will be released later this year and features fourteen stories and Flash Fiction pieces on a steampunk theme, a few have been on my website but several of them have never been seen before. I have also included extracts from both novels in this collection.

 

 

 

To enter,

 

Follow the link below and send me an email, in the subject line put either epub or mobi, depending on which eBook file type you want. Closing date for receipt of emails is the 31st of August at midnight. The winners will be picked on September 1st and will receive their prize as soon after that as possible. Everyone will receive Tales from Norlandia in the format specified in their entry.

Here’s the email address,

rocksfree@richarddeescifi.co.uk

And that’s it. Normal service will be resumed next week with another post from one of my characters. Until then,

Good luck!

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Say hello to the guest bloggers of August

It’s August and that means holidays, a bit of relaxing and not doing quite as much as you would normally do.

So where does that leave my weekly post? I looked around for someone who would perhaps take on the responsibility for me over the next couple of weeks and strangely enough, I found few takers for the offer of a guest post. They were all off on holiday as well; I got the usual excuses,

“I’d love to …, but”

“You should have asked me back in March, I’d have been happy to write something for you, it’s too late now”

“No!”

But in the end, one of my messages got a favourable response, therefore as the guest poster this week, I’m pleased to hand the reins over to Andorra Pett, who has agreed to cast a few pearls of wisdom your way.

But before we could do that, we had to have a conversation, set out a few ground rules. I knew that she still thought that I’d been a bit harsh in the way I’d described her. I wanted to make sure that revenge wasn’t on her mind.

“What would you like me to talk about?” she asked innocently, “people might have read about me, all that stuff about the mining station and what I got up to, they could have got the wrong impression.”

“What impression?” I asked. I thought that I had tried to make her sound like the sort of person you’d want to be friendly with, interesting and a bit crazy but never in a nasty way.

“You made me out to be a bit dozy,” she said. “OK, I admit I can be clumsy and sometimes my hormones take control but I’m not that bad. In fact, I’m as sane as most of the people I know.”

“Well, here’s your chance then,” I told her, “tell us about your life before the Oort Cloud café, what you were like growing up. Show us the real Andorra Pett. Put the record straight. But make sure that it’s not just one long advert for the book.”

And this was the result.

 

Hi everyone and welcome to Richard’s website, he’s on holiday this week and he’s let me have a go at writing a few words for you all.

In case you hadn’t worked it out, I’m Andorra Pett but you can call me Andi. I don’t know if any of you have read Richard’s version of my adventures off Saturn but its all lies!

Well maybe not all of it but he certainly portrayed me in a less than favourable light, I’m not as dozy as he made out, I’m vaguely domesticated and just because I’m short it doesn’t mean anything. Napoleon was only short and he did alright for a while. And I can work things out if you only give me a chance. It’s when you all start shouting and hassling me that I get confused.

Anyway, I don’t want to go on about all that, I’m under strict instructions. If you want to know more about what happened to me you’ll just have to get the book. (I hope that’s not too much of a plug Richard x)

Tell them about your life, Richard said, I’m the second daughter of Charles Wilson Pett and Magdalena Pett (nee Sloane). It sounds posh, well my father, bless him, was a diplomat and worked all over the place. Hence my name, it’s where he was stationed at the time-enough said! My older sister is called Argentia, not because dad couldn’t spell Argentina but because there was all that trouble. Which also saved her from being called Malvina; so maybe it was a lucky escape for her. She’s my big sister and I should love her but…, that’s another story, as Richard would say.

We grew up all over the world, moving around every year or so when I was young as dad’s posting changed. It meant that we had little education; we were just left to get on with it. My sister was five years older and like a lot of older sisters took delight in making me look stupid. For a time I never knew that you held both chopsticks in the same hand, it took me a while to forgive her for that one! The one constant in my life was Maisie, the daughter of dads assistant. She was the same age as me and we were inseparable, always in trouble and always laughing.

Then one day, the worst day of my life up to then, I must have been about seven, I was taken to a school. We had returned to London and the only school that would take me (and Maisie) at short notice was a convent. It was full of people who seemed to know each other and I was the strange girl, the one who didn’t know anything and didn’t fit in. I hated it at first; everyone was cleverer than me and knew all sorts of things. I had to sit still, be quiet and listen. I was so relieved at the end of the day.

When I found out I had to go back again, I was shocked, “but I’ve been to school,” I said. Argentia slapped me around the back of the head, “you’re going to have to go lots,” she laughed, “you’ll still be going when you’re sixty.”

“I’ll show you,” I tried to hit her but she danced away, “I’ll have learnt enough by the time I’m fifty, see if I don’t.”

I also found out that you couldn’t trust everything you heard, the other children would tell me things and when I repeated them at home I got shouted at, or sent to my room with no tea. But then I discovered that all the bullying and nastiness could be stopped if you made people laugh. And if you made them laugh about you because you acted stupid, well that was even better, people suddenly wanted to be with me. I developed a way of hiding any knowledge I’d acquired by being silly.

But I did find out that I could draw and paint. Especially cartoons of teachers. That got me into lots of trouble, but it made me even more popular. Then, one day I was investigating the cellar of the house we were in and found a load of old paint tins. They were rusty and uninspiring but when I opened them the colours fascinated me. I played around, mixing them up and splashing them on the walls. I got permission and decorated my room, at first it was hard but as I practised it got easier.

Then it became a regular thing, I used to decorate my room every month or so, with things that I found in the cellars and sheds of the places we were living in. Rusty, half-filled tins of paint and old pieces of fabric I could cope with and make something from. I would hide away for days getting it right and then hold a grand opening, showing everyone my latest colour scheme.

I managed to amaze everyone, including myself and leave school at sixteen, I went to art college, where I learnt how to design clothes, dye fabrics and met my best mate Cy. Poor, long-suffering Cy, he’s still with me now, he’s swapped making clothes for making cakes, back then we didn’t know how things would work out.

“I always wanted to open a clothes shop,” he told me, over a boozy lunch by the river. “How do you fancy it?”

To cut a long story short, AC Couture was born, Cy was tailor and cutter and I was the designer, Maisie was there too. We concentrated on fashion that was six months out of synch with everyone else; working on the theory that as you could never get any clothes for the season you were actually in, I might be able to make a living doing just that.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I could go on about AC Couture and all the adventures I had with that for ages, but then I might get into trouble, especially if I mentioned any names. Not only that, if I told you then Richard would have nothing else to write about.

If you want to know more about me, you can read chapter one of Andorra Pett and the Oort Cloud Café  HERE, or you can get the whole book HERE. And the tale of my next mishap, Andorra Pett on Mars, might be out soon after Christmas (if Richard would only get his finger out and hurry up!).

Bye for now,

 

 

 

 

 

If you’ve enjoyed reading about Andorra, please leave a comment below and I’ll make sure she gets it.

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In praise of the trusty Sidekick

 

Batman had Robin, Cagney had Lacey, Morecambe had Wise.

Throughout storytelling, there is a place by the side of the hero for a trusty sidekick or two.

They can serve so many purposes, from the voice of reason and conscience to the sounding board for ideas. They are usually unsung and quite happy to be so, content to be dependable and along for the adventure.

The sidekick can be invaluable in your novel, a source of exposition that is so much better than a descriptive passage. They can explain the boring bits of your tale (if there are any) in a convincing way and make it a part of the story.

In fact, there is just so much to recommend them, right from how they met and teamed up, to their past and their foibles. All of these things can drive your narrative and provide moments of humour, sadness and every other emotion that you might require. And they can save you from having to make your hero seem overblown and capable of everything by sharing the load when the action gets going.

And they don’t have to be there from the start of the tale. Your protagonist can start off by themselves and acquire a sidekick as the story progresses. Or they might have one from some past adventure. This also gives you a subject for them to talk about, giving insight into motives, weaknesses and baggage. They can reminisce in any moments of quiet between the action.

Or your hero might have one; lose them in any number of circumstances and just when they think they are doomed to a life of loneliness or a battle against overwhelming odds they get another.

And finally, there is the inanimate sidekick, like the bat cave or the fortress of solitude, the place where our hero goes for rest and reflection, to restore themselves or to clear their heads. This is potentially the hardest sidekick to write because it’s not directly emotional, it’s a place, therefore it has no dialogue. Instead, it must generate a reaction in the hero through its location, atmosphere and facilities.

Whew! When I started jotting down thoughts about sidekicks I never realised quite how much there was to go on. There’s enough scope there for a whole master class. And I’ve barely scratched the surface yet!

So let’s start to look at that in a bit more detail. If you’re the hero in an adventure novel; what can a sidekick do for you?

The sidekick keeps you sane and on the path, by pointing out your mistakes and providing useful and timely advice.

The sidekick leads you astray, by having their own agenda, or a goal that doesn’t align with yours, although the initial idea may have been the same.

Gaining or losing a good sidekick can be a source of tension or plot development, there can be thoughts of revenge at the demise of a faithful sidekick or surprise when one of the enemies becomes a friend…, or do they? Can they ever be trusted? There’s a great way to introduce tension, just how much can you tell someone whose motives are unclear?

There’s the value of conversation with one, it can move the plot along, expose back story in a more approachable way or provide a means for the hero to argue his case.

 

Then there’s the ‘who will rid me of this turbulent priest?’ kind of sidekick. The manifestation of our hero’s conscience that is fated to be disposed of. Usually when the advice becomes too much or gets a little too close to home. This will inevitably lead to remorse in the hero and can motivate them to perform some action that they might not have otherwise done.

Sometimes the sidekick can become a nuisance in other ways and need getting rid of.

It’s possible that a flash of anger might disrupt the hero/sidekick relationship, leaving room for bitterness, betrayal and a possible reconciliation later. Or it might be enough for the once loyal friend to turn and work against his former ally. Then again, bribery could turn a person’s allegiance if they feel unwanted or undervalued.

Then there are the accidental sidekicks, people thrown together in a common cause, they might hate each other at the start but there is always the potential to develop their relationship as they battle adversity together.

Never forgetting the inept but likeable assistant, sort of boy blunder instead of boy wonder! Or reverse it completely and have the inept hero and the smart ar*e sidekick.

So, as you can see, there is potential for so much in a sidekick, and I’m sure that you can think of plenty of other ways in which they can enrich a narrative.

I’ve had all sorts of sidekicks in my work. I’ve had friends, lovers and people who my character has bumped into in their travels. There have been the distractions, the ones who have dragged me on side projects, the ones who were blessed with skills that I never knew I needed until I found that I needed them!

You can have more than one as well; why not get a group like the Famous Five? But be careful, they can always gang up and force your story into situations that you don’t want, or didn’t plan for. Especially if one of the group turns out to be a bit of a diva. They might be after promotion from sidekick to hero.

As you can see the possibilities are endless. I’ve only just scratched the surface in this article. I hope I’ve given you some ideas though, please let me know what you think by commenting below.

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Building a perfect World, Part 3 – The End

If your finale is to be a wonderful thing, the reward for the reader making it to the end, then the journey towards the last page must be made to be worth it! And that means planning each step, inserting clues and pointers, developing back stories and setting up the things that you want to use in plenty of time, so they can enter the reader’s mind before they are needed in the plot.

I want you (as a reader), to get to the end of one of my books and be eager to know what might happen next. I’d like you to see the possibility of a sequel, of other adventures that could come out of the same universe. If I can leave a few unresolved plot strands that have the potential to be developed; that’s even better, it’s almost like a writer’s version of the store cupboard where you keep your tins of beans and soup, things for a rainy day or inspiration when you can’t think of anything to write.

I cherish reviews that ask for more from the characters, it means that empathy has been established, like Miss Marple and Jason Bourne, to readers my characters are becoming people that they want to see again.

I used to think that I had to tell you everything, to tie it all up and leave no loose ends in my narrative. I came to realise that it was such a waste. I understand that you have to finish the story that you’re telling, but that doesn’t mean that there should be nothing left over. It’s a case of not telling too much, just enough.

Even if it’s only a little thing that you leave unfinished or unsaid, as in life, little things can become big things and it will certainly be enough for a sequel. If you don’t fancy working out what happened next, how about what happened before; have you considered writing a prequel? Perhaps a spin-off; using one of your characters in a different situation is more to your liking?

I digress, back to Ribbonworld. By the time that we get to the final confrontation, everything is starting to fall into place. A few of the plot strands can be disproved; the dead ends can be discounted. We can have the last round of clues, the last chance to sow doubt in minds, especially of those that think they know ‘who done it.’

Without giving too much away, all the little things that I hinted at throughout the novel should have been remembered by the reader and used to piece together an idea of what’s about to happen and who is involved. Unless they have paid more attention to the false clues scattered among the real ones, in which case, they’re in for a surprise!!

Events have been building up to this point, it’s often suggested that you need to build to a crisis in your story about half to two-thirds of the way through, it releases tension and lets you build it up again to the big finish.

Now in Ribbonworld, we had a crisis at just over half way, it involved the main characters back story, in an idea that I suggested last week. Then for good measure, I threw in another one, a bit later on, just to keep you on your toes.

Because I think that the rules, especially in fiction, are made to be broken. Anyway, it gave me an excuse to bring more locations, other places in my universe and a bit of travel between them.

Some people may call it filling; I prefer to think of it as expansion, widening out the universe to give it realism and depth. After all, if you’ve gone to the trouble of creating one world, why not give the reader another for the price?

Nothing takes place in isolation, everywhere is connected to other places in reality so why not spread the action around in the fictional universe that you have crafted?

The second world that I created was the complete opposite of the first but still filled with danger for our hero. This time I chose to make the threat something that could happen to anyone, nothing futuristic but a part of the here and now. Not only does that provide a contrast to the abstract threat in the alien world of Reevis but it reinforces the realism. And once again the good old back story, a piece of conversation I had inserted fifty pages before, gave him (and me) the ability to solve the problem. I do hate the “with one bound he was free” method of getting the character out of trouble, it’s so much more satisfying to provide a logical escape route.

Meanwhile, while you were realising that I had set up the scenario and the solution, I had been busy in the background manoeuvring events to make sure that everything was in place for the final showdown. I had to decide where the best location was for the finale, and as in the start, I thought that the character of the planet could be used to add a little bit of tension. Instead of wondering if it would be the good guys or the bad guys who triumphed, could it be the impersonal landscape which would come out on top? That way, there can be jeopardy from both the bad guys and the setting, piling pressure on the hero and his trusty sidekicks.

I’ve realised that this is the first time I’ve mentioned the sidekick. That was rather remiss of me because a good sidekick is worth their weight in gold. In fact, to remedy that, I will write a full post about their role, rather than just give them a brief mention here.

The last few pages, where all the action takes place are deliberately frantic. I write in short sentences. There is a lack of description. Just action. It helps to make the reader quicken his (or her) pace. It gives the illusion of speed. It injects haste. The location has a big part to play, as it should, and the re-use of familiar places or things, only this time with a different purpose gives them a whole new meaning.

To find out who eventually survived, and who was responsible for all the bad things that happened, well you’ll just have to read the book. By now I hope that I’ve managed to convince you that it’s worth it.

And don’t fall into the trap of assuming that the hero survives, history is littered with heroes who didn’t! And it’s really not necessary.

I hope you enjoyed that little foray into my plotting process, if you did, please leave a comment below.

If you want to read Ribbonworld, there are two ways to do it.

You can buy it for 99p (or 99c in the USA) via Amazon, use the button below.

Or you can get a FREE copy by sending me your email address and signing up to my newsletter. The advantage to that method (apart from getting the book for nothing) is that you will get advance news of my new projects on a semi-regular basis, exclusive content and special offers.

You can sign up by clicking on this button.

 

If you missed part one, you can get it here,

and part two is here,

The post Building a perfect World, Part 3 – The End appeared first on Welcome to my Worlds..

Building a perfect world. Part two – details.

Last time, I started to describe how I had developed the concept for my Sci-fi adventure Ribbonworld.

I set up the plot and the location in broad terms. I had a murder and a conspiracy on a planet that was hostile to humanity. The next thing I had to do was decide what the hero’s reaction to the body would be, would it make him determined to find out who did it and why? Will he think that he might be next?

Obviously, I can’t give too much away (I want you to read the book after all!), but I hope you can see what I’m setting up here. It’s always a bonus if you can incorporate a couple of ways that the plot can go, a bit of ambiguity. And the longer you can keep them running together, the better.

So if our hero has a shady past, or there could be more than one reason for the murder, these can be revealed as we go along. I can drop hints to keep you guessing. The idea of competing outcomes is a bit like the three card trick, concealing the truth amongst the red herrings. Hiding it in plain sight; so that when we get to the end, the reader says AHHHH! and ties together all the little clues that you’ve scattered around. The reveal should come as a surprise but be totally logical. And it has to have been possible (if difficult) for the reader to have worked it out so that you get the best effect. The worst thing is to have withheld or missed inserting a vital clue, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth when I read a book where the answer comes from left field or the villain is introduced on the last page.

But before we delve into the action, it helps to establish the back story. In other words, the rules for living in the world I’m creating. And I must confess to being a bit of a geek when it comes to these things, I’m not happy unless I can justify it all to myself.

As I said, we’re in a dome, on an airless planet. Any holes in the dome – the air leaks out and we’re in deep trouble. So how can we reduce the chances? What would the real-life pioneers do to make the dome as safe as possible to live under?

My answer was to make the dome double skinned, with a shock-absorbent liquid filling between the layers. As I have the power of benign creation I thought I might as well use it and make it able to freeze and plug a gap if it was exposed to a pressure drop. Chemically I suspect that might be dubious but hey, it sounded pretty cool! And if humanity has learned how to fly to another planet, something like that would be a doddle. To add realism to it, I even included a throwaway comment about why.

And just for insurance, I put a net on top as well, to try and catch things before they got near the dome.

Now that’s all fine but I’m sure you can begin to see the flaw in all this kit. It weighs a lot. I imagined people reading it and shaking their heads, “It would never stay up,” they would mutter, “what kind of rubbish is this?” And they would dismiss me as a writer who doesn’t do his homework.

I concede that technically, it wouldn’t be possible to have pillars supporting the dome; they would need to be huge and deeply embedded in the rock. So again, I wondered what I could do to be realistic.

But then, I thought, the air in the dome, the air that everyone needs to breathe and stay alive, that will be pushing the dome out and will be helping to support its weight. Just like the water in a canal or enclosed dock stops the banks from collapsing.

And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve just introduced an element of tension; we need a constant supply of air to ensure that the dome stays up. Not too much or the top will blow off, while if there’s too little the dome will collapse. If there are any leaks in the dome, the air moving through them would cause a breeze as well, giving the place character (I was going to say atmosphere). And this means that a constant supply of new air is needed.

If we wanted, the person who controls the supply of air could be a major player. They are the one that you have to be nice too; people with that power are the ones who are really in charge.

Now that seems like a lot of chat for one minor aspect of the setting, but I think that it’s important. And here’s why.

The exposition of this rationale forms a part of our hero’s journey and gives him something to talk about to another character. By giving out this information as dialogue in the story, I can reinforce my credentials as a writer of believable settings. And keep the action moving. Putting it as dialogue saves the reader from wading through pages of description as well, something that puts me off a lot of books. You can introduce the information as it’s needed.

The conversations you can weave around exposition can also set up the structure of the relationships in the dome, people can complain about the useless machinery that could give out and kill everyone or the useless people whose arguing overshadows the running of the place. They’re useful tools to supply depth.

And where, I hear you ask, does the murder fit into this. Well, the great advantage of conspiracy theory as a plot device is that there’s always something to conspire against. Whether it’s the discovery of a secret or the desire to expose the truth, they are both valid. You can have both in the plot; so that the reader cannot really be sure which is the reason for the crime (and who is responsible) until much later.

So our hero can go about his business, meeting and interacting, learning and immersing himself in the world. He can get into tricky situations and find answers. And the bad guys can try to thwart him, with a little help from the environment.

The next thing that you can do is sow a bit of confusion about the murder. And the easiest way to do that is to make the main character interesting. Give him a reason to be the focus of dubious events, as I briefly mentioned before.

The great thing about giving someone a background is that it opens up all sorts of possibilities. If you want your hero to do something dangerous or foolhardy later, you can give him a moment in his past where the thing is a defining moment. Or you can plant the idea that he may not be all he seems.

For example, if I wanted my man to be frightened of being in a space suit, then I could let him have a traumatic event involving one in his past. I can have him worry about it, build it up in his mind as it becomes inevitable that he will be forced into one. Then when he HAS to get into the suit, if his life depends on it, he can agonise and find himself in the act of overcoming his fears, or not, it depends on what moves the plot along.

This resonates with most readers, largely because they can relate to struggles or similar experiences in their own lives. And it reinforces your credibility; it means that you write realistically!

So now we’re really cooking, we have the makings of a real story, there are conflicts everywhere; in the location and in the characters.

Next time, we’ll discuss the way we build the tension towards the ending.

If you want to read Ribbonworld, there are two ways to do it.

You can buy it for 99p (or 99c in the USA) via Amazon, use the button below.

Or you can get a FREE copy by sending me your email address and signing up to my newsletter. The advantage to that method (apart from getting the book for nothing) is that you will get advance news of my new projects on a semi-regular basis, exclusive content and special offers.

You can sign up by clicking on this button.

Let me know what you think of this series so far, please leave a comment below.

If you missed part one, you can get it here,

The post Building a perfect world. Part two – details. appeared first on Welcome to my Worlds..

Building a perfect World, part one of a plotting masterclass.

I was asked recently how I thought up the ideas for my worlds, I had to give a rather truncated answer, but it got me wondering if anyone else was interested.

So here’s a look at the thought process behind Ribbonworld, which has just been reissued with a new cover and a new way of acquiring it. More about that later.

About a year before I was forced to retire from work (a bone spur in my shoulder), my boss sent me to Portsmouth on a week’s course.

“I’ve put you in a hotel in Fareham,” he said. On previous courses that I had attended we had been put in the Premier Inn. They might have been standard chain hotels but they did a really good breakfast and this one was also handy for an excellent Chinese restaurant. What had he found for us this time?

When I arrived, I found that in place of the admittedly bland but reassuringly clean and presentable Premier Inn, it was the sort of hotel where you would not be surprised to find that there was the body of a previous guest in the bathroom. And you had to order the next day’s breakfast in advance!

And that got me thinking. At the time I’d already written one novel and I was wondering if I could do a second.

In a strange way, the body in the bathroom premise had got me excited! There were so many possibilities. How? Why? When? What was the connection between the guest and the corpse? Was there one? Would the authorities think that the guest was responsible? Was he?

So that situation gave me plenty of possibilities for a plot. I thought about it and decided to start with the impression that the guest and the corpse were connected but that the guest wasn’t the culprit. We can see where that leads us, there’s always the possibility of introducing a twist later.

Now I needed a location, a setting for the story. I could have set it in Portsmouth but that would have meant lots of research. I’d created a futuristic world for Freefall, I wondered if I could do it again. I didn’t want to use the same one, I had plans for a sequel and it might have messed up the timeline. So I decided to invent another one. One that would be an extension of the plot, instead of just the place where things happened.

I wanted to involve the reader in a world where nothing was straightforward, my plot was developing in my mind, the murder was now part of a conspiracy that my protagonist had got caught up in. It seemed to me that a location of contrasts would be the ideal place to set a conspiracy. In all good conspiracies, there is never black and white, there is perpetual conflict, nothing is what it seems and everything can have several meanings. Not only that, you don’t know who or what you can trust.

So I decided to build such a world. It needed to be a character in its own right, a harsh and unforgiving world, a world of contrasts, a mirror to the conspiracy itself.

So it seemed logical to make it a place where mankind had no place to be. Right away I had introduced conflict, not only was man pitted against his fellows but he was also fighting nature for survival.

I settled on an airless planet, all sides would be forced into an uneasy coexistence in the only safe place, the pressure domes and tunnels of Reevis. To reinforce the contrast, I had a planet that did not rotate, so one side was turned permanently to the sun and a sea of lava, the other turned to the cold of space and a place of ice. Two faces, both as deadly as each other.

And that, in turn, required me to set up lots of things. To be honest the scale of the task nearly stopped me. I had to make sure that this creation was possible, or at least feasible. Those who think that you don’t need research for sci-fi writing are wrong. There is a need to base your creation in fact, to make it sound at least possible. If I can show you a fact and get you happy that I know what I’m talking about, I’m halfway there.

Then, when I shift things around later you’re more likely to accept it.

I found that planets such as the one I proposed do exist. In our own solar system, the planet Mercury has ice on it, even though it’s close to the sun. So that was a start. I had my basis in fact.

And pressure domes can be made, we could live in one on Earth either on land or underwater. Underwater the pressure would all be on the outside but there’s no reason why it shouldn’t be on the inside. If we wanted to we could build one now. And as I’m sure you’re aware, we do, they’re called aeroplanes. Or submarines. My dome would just be larger, and static.

All of this is straightforward so far. But all this world building is dragging us away from the plot. We mustn’t forget that we have a murder and a conspiracy to write about; as well as the setting we have to work on the action. And marry the threads together.

As far as I’m concerned, this is the exciting bit, using the basic building blocks of plot and setting that we have just created we can tinker to our heart’s content. And the first question is, just how much detail do you want?

And that’s a subject that I’ll be covering next time.

As I said at the start, Ribbonworld has been re-issued with a new cover and a new price.

 

Not only that, there are now two ways to get hold of a copy.

You can buy it for 99p (or 99c in the USA) via Amazon, use the button below.

Or you can get it free by sending me your email address and signing up to my newsletter. The advantage to that method is that you will get advance news of my new projects on a semi-regular basis, exclusive content and special offers.

You can sign up by clicking on this button.

So the choice is yours. Next time I will be expanding on the construction of both plot and setting.

The post Building a perfect World, part one of a plotting masterclass. appeared first on Welcome to my Worlds..

A sneak peek at my next Steampunk adventure, coming soon!

I wondered whether the time was right to share this with you, and then I thought… why not?

So here it is, a sample from my soon-to-be-released Steampunk adventure, A new life in Ventis, the sequel to The Rocks of Aserol.

In case you haven’t read the first book, it ended leaving some people asking for more. I thought at the time that it was complete and I still think that the story ends in a good place.

Whilst giving nothing away, my editor said, “Presumably there’s a sequel? If not, why not?”

A reviewer said, “So, what becomes of the hero? All I’ll say is, the story does have an end but there are still questions unanswered. I think Mr Dee would disappoint quite a few readers if he didn’t come up with a sequel – or better still – a series.”

And another, “I absolutely adored it but the ending!!!!!!  What’s going to happen next? Please tell me you’ve written a sequel.”

Clearly, I couldn’t argue with comments like that, and I decided to write a sequel, which I now hope to have published in November. The same cover designer will be used as last time and that’s all arranged for September.  

Here is a short sample, taken from near the start of the story. We join our heroes, Horis and Grace as they come to terms with the aftermath of the events of the first novel. 

You can also download the excerpt as a pdf file to read later by clicking on the title button below.

You can get to The Rocks of Aserol by clicking HERE, or on the cover. As well as more information about the book there’s some extra content about the Steampunk world of Norlandia in eight Flash Fiction Vignettes.

And the pictures I’ve added, well they might just be clues about what’s going to happen, you’ll have to wait and see!

 

 

 

 

 

The Swiftsure

 

Meanwhile, the subjects of the manhunt were blissfully unaware of the hue and cry they had raised in Northcastle. The Swiftsure ploughed through a low swell, rolling and pitching easily. They were no longer on the way to the Eastlands but now headed to Omnipa in the far south-west of Norlandia. The change of orders had not been expected and the way that they had been delivered had been one last thing to keep Horis on edge.

Having passed between the harbour breakwaters, the Swiftsure slowed and a lee was made. The pilot left the wheelspace, escorted down by the duty officer to the approaching cutter. As it closed to land the pilot it signalled them by flashing lamp.

“Why are they signalling?” asked Horis, as he saw the winking light. Hector concentrated as he read the coded message of short and long flashes.

“They have dispatches for us,” replied Hector.

Immediately Horis shrank into a corner. “Are we discovered so quickly?” he asked.

“Fear not,” said Hector, “it will probably be some mundane message from my agents, a change of orders I expect. They would have been unable to deliver it as we were forced to sail early. If we were required to hand you back for some reason, a warship would be here to make us turn about, not the cutter.”

Horis relaxed somewhat as the bucket was lowered and an envelope placed inside it. The duty officer returned with it after seeing the pilot safely away. Hector split the flap and read the note. “As I thought, it is a letter from my agents; there is a change in our itinerary.”

“Where are we bound now?” asked Grace, who was unconcerned. Horis realised that he was the only person who had been bothered, this must be normal practice, perhaps all seafarers were used to it.

“We sail to Omnipa,” Hector replied. “For a load of exported goods to Tarpitt, thence loading coffee and cacao beans, returning to Norlandian ports.”

Horis and Grace exchanged worried glances, this was not what they wanted, if it should be suspected that they were aboard there would be soldiers waiting for them on the jetty in Omnipa. There was plenty of time to get a message from Northcastle to Omnipa overland long before they would arrive. Omnipa had no Rail but there was a garrison and a speaker station for the military.

Hector tried to reassure them. “Omnipa is quiet and out of the way, they only have the mail delivered every fortnight or so, and even that depends on the brigands in the area. If they are active then the place is isolated. Likewise the speakers, as fast as they are laid and connected, so the criminals steal the copper wires and sell them back to the foundry. It is more than likely that they will not have heard any news about you. In fact, this might well work to your advantage.”

“How might that be so?” asked Horis, he wanted to be away from Norlandia as soon as possible and stay away until any fuss had died down. How could this diversion possibly be to his advantage?

“Well, firstly, as far as anyone in the port is concerned, we are sailing to the Eastlands, only the sender of the letter knows different. And as they are not in Northcastle, they may not be asked.”

Horis could see the sense in that. Hector continued, “Also, if you wish to withdraw funds, Omnipa is a good place to do so as any, and it might be an idea to realise your assets while you still can.”

Horis understood; he could retrieve his money from an unsuspecting bank. Especially one that had no way to communicate with its head office, except by unreliable post. The longer he left it, the more likely that word would have reached them and he could find that his account had been blocked.

“Then it’s good that I have my passbook,” he said, “in my pocket safe with my other papers. Perhaps you are right.”

“I can keep things safer for you on my ship than in any bank,” said Hector, “especially under your name. It would not be long before everything was seized on the orders of Terrance.”

Horis had already lost his apartment in Metropol City and the few possessions that he had there, to lose the small savings he had would be the last straw.

And with that thought, it was time for dinner. As Horis and Grace entered the saloon there were cheers and applause for them from the assembled crew and officers. They took seats at the top table, next to Hector’s place and were soon answering questions about their adventures. Grace’s tale of capture and imprisonment brought gasps and mutterings, then when Horis spoke of the rescue there were cheers and more applause. They all remembered his earlier voyage on the ship. Then he had been accompanied by Maloney and Grieve, to a man they were shocked at the turn of events.

“Hector charged you with looking after Grace,” the engineer said, as Horis stopped for a drink, “and you did so admirably.”

“It was not just my doing,” he repeated several times. “I have Mr Maloney and his men to thank for most of my good fortune.” Even so, he basked in the praise.

The cook on the Swiftsure had produced another superb repast, after a mixed root soup there was grilled Bovine steak with accompaniments, all followed by a rich fruit pie and creamy sauce. The conversation continued, the comments dissecting the points of the tale, when they got to the Drogans’ attack and the appearance of the flying machine there was surprise.

“We never knew of such as these flying machines,” said one of the artificers. “The Drogans must have been alarmed at the intruders in the air; I suspect that they see it as their domain.”

The engineers then entered a long discussion about the mechanics of flight and Horis found that he was no longer the centre of attention. Grace pled tiredness from the excitement and excused herself to sleep. Horis also sought to escape but as he made to follow her, the engineer produced a bottle of spirit and the toasting began. After a while, and another bottle, Horis began losing his grip on sobriety; eventually he staggered off to the passenger cabins, chose an empty one and fell fast asleep.

When he awoke, he found that he was still fully dressed, his head ached and his mouth was dry, it was not unlike the morning after his adventure in the Drogans Rest in Aserol; all those months ago. That had been when he had first met Grace, they had gone to view the harvest celebrations and that had been the start of all his adventures. The morning after that, he had felt wretched, he had still Ministry duties to perform and Terrance to impress. Now, for the first time in ages, he felt relaxed and complete. All of his worries had been assuaged.

He was blissfully happy to be reunited with Grace, the fact that she had suffered on his account made him all the more tender towards her, and after he had made himself presentable and broken his fast they spent the day just walking the deck and holding each other, while they talked of her imprisonment and her treatment by Terrance.

He sensed that she needed to talk, to break the spell it had over her and cauterise the wound. The day was chilly but fresh and the low sun broke through scudding clouds every now and then. Occasional spray splashed the deck as the vessel moved in a short sea, and they laughed as they were dampened by the salty spray.

“It was so foul,” she said, after she had laughed at his protestations of a pounding head, her expression changed as she remembered the cell and the desolation; she shook while Horis held her. She spoke in short sentences, punctuated by sobs; he knew some of it already but let her talk as she repeated all the horrors of her ordeal.

“Being captured and having to watch Grieve die horribly was the start,” she said. “Then, the man I wounded was shot by the other thug.”

Horis praised her for her bravery. “I felt anger,” she said, “not bravery, how dare that man come in and try to hurt me?” She touched the scar on her face from the pistol butt. Horis took her hand away and kissed the puckered skin. She moved her face and their lips met again. After a long kiss, she continued, “I wondered at the savagery of it. What had we done, save steal a rock and have some knowledge? And when I saw you from my prison in the mobile, but was unable to speak or get to you, I felt true despair. Then I recall a room and the smell of flowers. I must have slept because the next thing I recall was waking in that cold cell, not knowing where I was. Terrance seemed to take joy from my discomfort; it was only after he had received a call from his senior that my situation improved.”

Horis tried to imagine the helplessness that Grace would have felt, knowing she was so far from help. “And it was all because of me,” he said. “I’m truly sorry to have put you through such an ordeal.”

She held him tight. “The one thing that kept me alive and sane was the knowledge that it was for you,” she whispered. “I knew you would come and rescue me and I knew that I would have to keep you safe by being strong and revealing nothing that could help them destroy you.”

They kissed again, against the ship’s rail, whilst up in the wheelspace Hector gazed down on them. He envied their happiness, and again marvelled at the power of emotion to overcome the worst trials.

Grace told of her time after Terrance had relented somewhat and she had been given work to do. “Once I was working in the kitchens and had a little more freedom, then I felt better. At least I had a purpose, something to take my mind away from my situation. It was when I became the steward to the flyers that I met Ralf. He showed me the truth, that he was just as much a prisoner as I was, in a better cage it was true but nonetheless still a captive.”

She told him again of her despair as time passed and she began to wonder if rescue would ever come, and how Ralf’s plan for her to escape had shaken her from her torpor. “It was wrong of me to give up hope,” she said, wracked by more sobbing. “Can you forgive me?”

Horis held her against him. “There is nothing to forgive, I wish I could have rescued you sooner,” he said. “We had to make plans and it was important to get things right.”

“I had planned to follow Ralf’s lead,” she said, “and use the items and information he had procured for me. But then Sapper came on his reconnaissance and that threw my plans awry. Once I knew that you were on the way, it was easier to think of the whole thing as a holiday with work. Even so, I had to be careful not to change my mood too much and arouse suspicion. As the day approached I became impatient for my release. But by then I was content, for I knew that I would be free.”

“My poor love,” replied Horis, “you have suffered so much and all because of a chance meeting with me, I feel guilt at your treatment and would do anything to make it right.”

“Ahh, but you were not responsible for that,” was her answer. “That was all Terrance’s doing. We met and I chose to be with you and if I had known the future, I still would have accepted it.” She looked into his eyes and he saw the truth of her words.

“In any event,” she continued, “you gathered a band of helpers and risked all in coming to my rescue, I will never forget that. I knew the first time we met, back in Aserol that we were meant to be and that whatever happened we would be together. You have proved yourself to me and if I had the chance, I hope that I would do the same for you.”

The sea air and conversation did her good and helped her to exorcise the demons in her mind. They were blissfully happy together, yet that evening, as they embraced outside his cabin on the deck, with the moons shining in a starry sky and the air warm, Grace declined his tentative suggestion that they spend the night together.

Horis wondered at the reason, perhaps it was a result of her captivity. “Why not, my love?” he asked. He was perplexed; she had been the enthusiastic instigator when first they had met. Were they not now bound by more than the fate which had initially thrown them together?

She quickly sought to reassure him. “You silly man,” she said. “It’s too public and not for any other reason. Aboard ship, everyone knows what everyone else is doing. My uncle is Captain here and will doubtless tell my parents of my actions. I could not bear it if the first news they heard of me were about what they would see as my sinful behaviour. And they would think badly of you, which is not what I want. I love them both dearly but they have a different way of looking at things. They would say that we were not yet wed.”

Horis could see the logic but was unimpressed, he had been separated from her for long enough. “But everyone will assume that is what we are doing anyway,” he argued.

“Hector would not approve, and he is the law here,” she countered. “And we will be wed, just as soon as it is safe for us to return to Norlandia.”

She slipped from his arms. “Goodnight,” she whispered as she went to her cabin. Horis stood, deflated as he heard the door lock behind her. He went to his own cabin but could not sleep.

Grace must have reconsidered her position; for Horis was woken later that night by the sound of her sneaking into his cabin. However, her reluctance to be discovered made her retreat before dawn’s light.

They spent the next several days in happy companionship, talking all day and snatching moments in the night whilst they rounded the Cape and turned to run westwards, past Aserol to Omnipa.

Then Horis had an idea, he went to see Hector to explain it. As he sat in the Captain’s cabin he thought that the seat felt warm, it must have been the sun shining on it through the window. Even though it was late in winter, the further they had ventured from Northcastle the more the weather had improved.

“Well young man, what can I do for you?” asked the Captain, attired in his full uniform, his braid gleaming. He had a serious expression and Horis stammered out his request and then collapsed into silence. He thought that his speech had not gone as well as when he had practised in front of his shaving glass.

Hector nodded thoughtfully after he had said his piece, the delay in his response did nothing to calm Horis’s stomach, which seemed to have taken on the form of a basket of serpents.

“I wondered how long it would take you to work that out,” he said, the serious face cracked into a grin and there was a twinkle in his eye. “And to be honest, I thought that the Swiftsure had been invaded by rats, with all the nocturnal scuttling that I have heard.” Horis had the grace to blush while Hector found his discomfort amusing, after all, had he not been young once?

“Do not worry,” he said. “I might not approve of your actions but I can understand them. Grace is safe from my criticism, and I will say nothing of it to my sister, should we speak. Grace is old enough to decide for herself how to spend her life.”

There was a pause before Hector spoke again; he appeared to be weighing his choices.

“Very well,” he said at length. “We have a few days to spare in our schedule before we are due to dock in Omnipa. I intend to drop anchor in a sheltered bay I know and perform some maintenance works once we have passed Aserol. We could do it then.”

As Horis departed, Hector allowed himself a private grin, Grace had come to him with the same idea, and had departed not five minutes before Horis had arrived; ‘great minds’, he mused.

The post A sneak peek at my next Steampunk adventure, coming soon! appeared first on Welcome to my Worlds..

Sequel. Or prequel, or spin-off. Don’t you just love them?

 

Everyone loves a sequel…, or a prequel…, or a spin-off.

Readers like them because they hope that they will give them the answers to questions that the original story threw up. Or that the new adventures of their heroes (pardon my gender type) will continue in the same vein.

Writers are quite partial to sequels, prequels and spin-offs because a lot of the heavy lifting has been done, characters have been established and those that survive into another book are known to the readers. Little is required in the way of setting development either; the world exists and is familiar. Sure, the characters may visit different locations but in general, there’s a lot less work to make it all credible. And as a writer, I can often see other possibilities as I write, outside of the scope of the story that I’m actually telling. Ideas for even more adventures.

But, and this is a biggie, there’s quite a lot more to it than that for me at the moment. There’s a pachyderm in the building, one that has me, and I’m sure a host of others screaming. I’m referring to CONTINUITY.

I don’t mean changing your hero’s hair colour, which is no more than mildly annoying to the reader. All that’s required to overcome that sort of error is to read the first book again before you start, just to make sure you have everyone as you remember them.

The problem that I’m currently stuck with is a bit more problematic than that.  It revolves around what was actually said and done in the previous book. Its continuity on a grand scale and it’s messing up my sequel!

You may think that’s a strange comment, after all, what happened in the previous book was the basis of that story. Bear with me a minute here and I’ll explain.

When I wrote the original story, I had no idea that a sequel was ever going to be written. Any more than I could tell you now what my next project will be.

Even if I had thought of a sequel, I wouldn’t have had a clue about what would happen, more than in the most general terms.

So what happened in the first book should have been fine. The sequel would just start where the other left off, use the facts and away we go.

My problem is that now I’ve decided to write a sequel, I’ve decided that I want a certain thing to happen.

It came to me as quite a crucial part of the tale. I had this great idea and spent a while sorting it out, getting it into shape. Then I thought that I’d better read the first book again, a formality to make sure it all lined up.

Before I had that great idea I had no intention of writing a sequel. So it didn’t matter how I had resolved a particular situation last time. It worked, it was logical. Job done!

Now that I am, it does! My storytelling has constrained my ability to let my sequel’s narrative develop. Not purposefully, as if that matters. Because, after all, this was a story that I was never going to write!

I really should learn that I must never say never.

I can’t get my characters to do what I want, I can’t use this wonderful piece that I’ve written and refined. And all because of what occurred in the last book. One of the characters is not present in the first book when I want someone in the sequel to remember him doing things. He had wandered off and I had forgotten.

If I had picked one of the other ways the plot could have developed, it would be fine. Although I suppose that it’s always possible that in fifty pages or so the same thing might have happened again, in a different situation.

It’s a bit like life; you’re actions and room to manoeuvre are sometimes constrained in a certain way by what’s gone before.

Incidentally, that book was a prequel that I had to write to explain a remark that a character made in the original novel. So to be technically correct, the sequel is actually the second story but the third part.

I suppose I could always try the ‘Dallas Shower’ manoeuvre (showing my age) or the ‘I don’t remember, surely you’ve got that wrong’ trick that crops up from time to time. But it feels false.

So, and this is really radical, I will have to think of something better for my cast to do. The one thing that I did manage to do was to set up several possible things in the story. Plot lines and possibilities that could be made relevant to the developing sequel.  I can always explore one or more of them and see where it goes.

And as for that killer passage, I will make it into a short story, or use it somewhere else; it’s far too good to waste.

In case you’re wondering, the sequel in question is provisionally called Promise Me. It’s the sequel to Myra, which in turn was the prequel to Freefall. I hope that’s not too confusing!

Not to give too much away, in Freefall certain promises were made by Dave Travise. And there are things that still remain unanswered from Myra.

As the teaser says,

“Dave Travise has promises to keep, a Galaxy to search and no time to lose. On his journey, he’s going to be surprised at what his efforts to make things right will turn up. And just what he has to promise, and to whom. As he will find out, there’s more than one way to keep a promise.”

I can’t promise (?) when this story will see the light of day, but you can keep up to date on progress via my newsletters and on this website.

To join my occasional newsletter, click HERE, or on the book. As a reward, you’ll receive a copy of Flash Fiction, a collection of short stories.

 

And there will be other giveaways coming soon, including one that may surprise you!

What do you think about sequels, prequels and spin-offs? please leave a comment below.

The post Sequel. Or prequel, or spin-off. Don’t you just love them? appeared first on Welcome to my Worlds..

A Celebration of Books, What happened at Credfest 2017

Instead of a post about my writing or some other insight, I’m reporting on my attendance at Credfest last Saturday.

As a mamber of the Exeter Authors Association, I had a table, a workshop and readings to do. Here are a few pictures from the event.

 

I also made some cupcakes for the visitors.

I’m a big fan of Carrot cake, so that was what I produced and they seemed to be popular.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There was a good turnout for the event and as this was the first one that I’ve attended I wasn’t really sure what to expect. But it was great.

I chatted to customers; my workshop went down well, with good feedback. I was actually told that my suggestions for world building made great sense, someone else admitted that hadn’t been sure what to expect but had been fascinated. There were some excellent readings by the other authors, great poetry and a short extract from Witch!

I think I’ve found some new books to add to my virtual pile!

My readings were also well received, I read a short extract from Andorra Pett and the Oort Cloud Café and another from The Rocks of Aserol.

It’s true that I didn’t sell many books, but I did give away lots of short stories and samples, which may well sow seeds for future sales. And as a new(ish) author it’s about getting the brand out and being recognised. Events like this are great for doing just that. And one lucky person won a copy of Andorra Pett, who knows where that will lead?

The audience got the humour in Andorra Pett and the Oort Cloud Café and laughed in most of the right places, which was a relief, after all, it’s my sense of humour and you never really know if others will find it funny.

The extract that I read is at the end of this post; it’s from a little later in the book than the sample chapter that you may have read HERE.

Now, I have to prepare for Tiverton Literary Festival on Friday. I’m one of the authors you can meet in the Library. We start at 10 am so if you’re local to Tiverton, please pop in and say hello.

Writing wise, I have just about finished Andorra Pett on Mars, the follow-up to Andorra Pett and the Oort Cloud Café, and I have an idea for book three in the series, Andorra Pett takes a break.

My Steampunk sequel A new life in Ventis is with beta readers. Dependant on their reaction, I’m working towards publication before Christmas. I also have a couple of other projects in the pipeline. There will be more news on them in the very near future.

Are you interested in how I build words? Would you like a transcript of my workshop with suggestions? Why not let me know, together with your ideas, in the reply box below the post. I’d love to hear from you!

 

So here’s the extract that I read, Andorra Pett is settling into her new life, running a café. She’s already discovered a secret, and now it seems like someone is after her…….

I’d set my alarm for 4 a.m. again, we had sold nearly all the things I had made yesterday and although Clarissa had provided some pies we still needed fresh bread and more cakes. Cy, for all his enthusiasm, wouldn’t be up till later so it was down to me.

The alarm went off, without bothering with the lights I reached out and turned my hair straighteners on; then I headed for the bathroom. When I came back I watched in horror as the bedroom door started to open, a line of dim light grew slowly as it was pushed from outside. Someone was creeping in. There wasn’t time to put my boiler suit on; at least I was wearing a vest and some shorts to cover my modesty.

I needed a weapon, and quickly. In the dark I climbed across the bed as quietly as I could, aiming for the red light on the bedside table. I pulled the straighteners out of their stand and crept to the wall behind the door. I knew that a burn from them would make you stop what you were doing and think again. A hand appeared and I struck, jabbing the straighteners down on the wrist, catching it between the hot ceramic plates. I squeezed. Hard.

There was a piercing scream and a sizzle as the fibres of the garment covered arm melted and stuck to the skin underneath. There was the smell of bacon frying. The hand disappeared, pulling the straighteners from my grip, they clattered onto the floor. I heard footsteps and someone shouting and sobbing in pain as I pulled the door open and ran into the corridor. It was empty.

I headed into the space behind the counter, the café’s front door was open, the shutters were up; hadn’t we lowered them when we closed up last night? Nothing moved, my maimed burglar can’t have had time to get across the floor and through the door, they must be hiding. How the hell had someone opened the locks? Of course, I hadn’t changed the codes. I must do that.

The room was in part light from Saturn but there were deep shadows. I flipped the light switches and ran to close and lock the door, hopefully whoever was inside would be trapped, surely Cy would have heard the shouting and was even now coming to help me. I had dropped the straighteners and had no weapons, just my anger. How dare someone try and come into MY place?

As I crossed the floor I heard footsteps to one side. I swung my head. I had a brief glimpse of a black-headed figure approaching, the lack of features making it look sinister, and then I was shoulder-charged. The force of the impact shoved me straight into a table. I bounced off and as I flailed around I grabbed at the figure, ripping off whatever was covering its head. They wriggled clear, pushed me into another table and sprinted for the door. I got up and followed them, puffing with the exertion, I needed to get to the gym, if there was one.

As I peered through the door I caught sight of a figure rounding the corner into the main alleyway. I’d never catch them now and my hip was throbbing where I had bounced off the corner of a table.

“What’s going on, Andi?” Cy had appeared, and he hadn’t bothered dressing for the occasion either.

“They got away,” I puffed. “I gave them something to think about.” I showed him the mask I had grabbed, black and woollen; it was like a balaclava helmet without the face-hole. “Look,” he said, there were short blonde hairs stuck in the wool.

“That’s a clue.”

Suddenly, it was all too much for me and I started shaking, Cy held me tight and smoothed my hair. “It’s OK, Andi,” he whispered. “They’ve gone now, that was some scream they gave, what did you do, come out of the bathroom and give them a thrill?”

That wasn’t funny, but it did make me laugh and that helped me calm down a bit.

“I got them with my straighteners.” He winced. “I got their wrist between the plates. Their sleeve melted into the flesh. It smelt like bacon.”

“Well done you, that’ll be sore then! All we need to do is find someone with a crispy fried wrist.”

We suddenly found that funny and just stood there, holding each other, laughing like a couple of crazy fools.

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