H.L.Tinsley's Blog, page 2

Book launch, reviews and a little something for your mind

With it being less than three days before launch, (where have the last few months gone?) I thought that now would be an apt time to check in on here. I still plan to add more to my Dark Thoughts series within the next few weeks, but for now, I just wanted to provide a little update as to what’s been happening recently.

‘We Men of Ash and Shadow’ officially launches on 1st October (with pre-orders already available for Kindle via Amazon). I’m incredibly grateful for the early reviews and feedback from those who have already read the book, which is currently rated 4.43/5 on Goodreads.

If you haven’t checked it out already, you can also now see Chris Haught’s review of the book for Grimdark Magazine here –

REVIEW: We Men of Ash and Shadow by HL Tinsley

‘We Men of Ash and Shadow takes us through this remarkably fascinating underworld of crime and survival, showing the darker side to the human experience, but also carving out a path to possible redemption.’

Chris Haught, Grimdark Magazine reviewer

‘It struck me as a grimdark vision of Pratchett’s Ankh Morpork, as if Joe Abercrombie had been given the keys to Discworld.’

Gem Jackson, Goodreads reviewer

‘Sin City meets Assassin’s Creed and V for Vendetta in this wrenching and sometimes terrifying tale of hardened survivors eking out a living in a ticking time bomb of a gaslight city’

Joshua Lieblein, Goodreads reviewer

I’m also pleased to say that I’ve had some wonderful comments and positive reactions to the cover art used for the novel. Finding a great artist with the skills to depict a single snapshot of a world you have spent years building is no mean feat. The value and importance of good art is something that should never be underestimated.

The artwork for ‘We Men of Ash and Shadow’ (from initial concept to finished product) was created by illustrator and designer Luke Michael Copsey of Nevercity Creations. You can see more examples of his work on his Instagram page –

https://www.instagram.com/mr_lucius/

On a non-book related note, I’ve been doing a lot of research recently into psychological effects (as opposed to phenomena). I’ll be diving into the topic in more detail in the coming months, but for now, here’s an interesting one to get you started.

‘The Stroop Effect’ is a psychological reaction that causes a delay in the brain’s ability to process incongruent (non-harmonious) information in comparison to congruent (harmonious) information. This effect happens when the brain receives two different pieces of information that (to our minds) don’t fit. The most commonly used example of this is the use of depicted colour versus the written word.

For example, take a look at the list of words below.

As you go down the list, say the colour that each word is shown in out loud. You may notice that you feel your brain working harder. You may pause, make a mistake, stumble over your words, or get stuck. This is because the text that your eyes are reading and the information (colour) your brain is processing are not in sync.

The Stroop Effect

It’s entirely possible to get it right the first time.

However, for most people, it’ll take at least an attempt or two – and yes, it is a little reminiscent of the old ‘Red Lorry, Yellow Lorry’ tongue twister.

Until next time, take care of yourselves, your minds and each other.

‘Dark Thoughts’ Psychology Series 2, Part 1: Donning the Cloak of Invisibility

‘Vanguard was a hard man to describe. People didn’t like to look at his face long enough to notice any real detail. If they had looked, they would have noticed the tell-tale signs of a long career in service. They would have seen the scars and the tattoos, the patch on the side of his jaw where the skin had been burnt away. He reached up and ran one finger over the scars, feeling the coarse hairs that half masked the puckered skin. The scars didn’t make him any less attractive. Time had done a good enough job of that.‘

After a brief hiatus, I decided to start a new version of the ‘Dark Thoughts’ blog series. I got some very positive reactions to the last set of posts, so rather than changing what seems to work (so far), I thought I’d give the initial idea something of a tweak.

I love the study of psychology, human nature, culture, and interaction. The way that we (as a collective) tend to work, either consciously or not, is an endless source of fascination. As a writer, I often find myself discovering new psychological traits or phenomena that I could use for character building.

Hence, with the launch of ‘We Men of Ash and Shadow’ being less than a month away, I decided to write a series of ‘Dark Thoughts’ posts that reveal some of the phenomena that could apply to the main characters of the book. Don’t worry – you won’t find any spoilers here. Just a look at some of the characters, and the psychological and social factors that may (or may not) drive them.

Let’s take John Vanguard for instance. As the protagonist of ‘We Men of Ash and Shadow’, ex-soldier turned mercenary Vanguard is used to going unnoticed. Most of the time, his survival relies on it. But for most people, the feeling of being ignored or invisible can lead to some profound psychological consequences.

It may help to know that the feeling of being ‘unseen’ is one that affects many. It can also, in some cases, lead to an unfounded sense of ego or superiority. The ‘Invisibility Cloak of Illusion’ is a psychological phenomenon named in a 2017 study that cites that people often believe they are the observer rather than the observed.

When positioned in a crowded place – for example, on public transport or in a shop – people will believe that they are watching the crowd, but have little perception of anybody watching them. In short, a lot of us assume that while watching what those around us are doing, we are either not interesting or important enough to be watched ourselves. Or, in some cases, we assume that we are just too good at being unnoticed for anyone to see us (that superiority complex creeping in again).

Think about it. You walk into your favourite coffee shop. You go there every morning. You know which servers work on which days, what the specials will be, and at what time that creepy guy who spends just a little bit too much time digging his change out of his pocket will be there. Don’t come at me for that one. We all know every coffee shop has one. You walk in, and you find that there’s a person that you’ve never seen before behind the counter. They’re a stranger to you.

But you sit there with your coffee, and now and then your eyes slide over to the counter. You notice the way they talk to people. The clothes they wear. How they move. You’re watching them, but rarely will it occur to you that perhaps someone is watching you in the same way. To someone else, you are the stranger.  

Simply put, for the majority of times, we fail to notice ourselves being observed. Because you’ve donned your invisibility cloak of illusion. Perhaps this is why it can be so disconcerting – chilling even – to realise that somebody is observing us. That layer of protection has been peeled away. It makes us feel exposed because we are used to considering ourselves the watcher.

Maybe there is an argument to be made that the less we believe people see us, the less they will. It could explain Vanguard’s penchant for lingering in the shadows. After all, nobody pays attention to the guy in the background. In Vanguard’s case, the ability to go unseen is a definite string to his bow. D’Orsee isn’t the kind of place you want to be seen in. But if you want to know more about that you’ll just have to read the book.

Until next time, may your books be dark but your hearts be light.

‘Dark Thoughts’ Psychology Part 6: How do you Vu?

You’re looking at a person across a crowded room. Catching their eye, you feel a sense of familiarity and recognition that you can’t place. Maybe you’ve met before? Perhaps you’ve seen their picture in the paper? Suddenly you feel like, not only have you seen this person before, but you’ve already had this experience. History is repeating itself.

Either this is your groundhog day, or you’ve got a case of deja vu. You’re not alone. Seventy percent of people have had a deja vu experience at least once, if not multiple times. But did you know that there is more than one type of ‘vu’?

There are, in fact, a multitude from which your mind can choose at any given time.

If you’ve ever had a conversation and tried to recall a piece of information or word that you just can’t seem to find, you may have described it as ‘having something on the tip of your tongue’.

What you are experiencing is actually known as ‘presque vu’.

Essentially, it is the sensation of being on the brink of a mental breakthrough but being unable to fully express it. Personally, I love this term. Let’s be honest, saying ‘it’s on the tip of my tongue’ is nowhere near as sexy and mysterious as woefully exclaiming ‘I stand on the edge of epiphany, curse this abominable presque vu!’

In contrast to ‘deja vu’ and ‘presque vu’, ‘jamais vu’, (also known as ‘never seen’) is the psychological phenomenon in which something that should be familiar, isn’t.

These events are known as ‘distortion of perception’.

Less common than ‘deja vu’, ‘jamais vu’ is still reportedly experienced by between forty and sixty percent of the population. An example that most people can probably relate to, is that of seeing a commonly used or repetitive word and feeling like either you’ve never seen it before, or that something about it just doesn’t ‘look right’.

Try writing the word ‘ridiculous’ on a piece of paper fifty times. If, by the time you get to the fiftieth time of writing it, the word no longer looks like it is a real word, then you are experiencing ‘jamais vu’.

Your mind has become so overexposed to the repetition of stimuli (in this case the written word) that you subconsciously disassociate from it.

Whilst most occurrences of ‘jamais vu’ have little effect on day-to-day life, there are more extreme examples of phenomenons believed to have their roots in, or be linked to, the ‘jamais vu’ experience or similar feelings of memory disassociation.

For example, in ‘Capgras Delusion’, the phenomenon in which people believe friends, family or people they know to have been replaced by imposters.

I hope that you’ve found the ‘Dark Thoughts’ series as interesting to read as I have to research and write.

In the interests of keeping my blog as fresh and as interesting as possible, from next week I will be starting a new series. The study of psychology, human interaction and the way that the mind works has always been a great source of fascination for me. So I will continue to use it as base from which to seek out and share new topics.

I’ll be announcing the theme for my new blog series over the next few days.

Until then, be good to yourselves, your bodies and your minds.

‘Dark Thoughts’ Psychology Part 5: The Locus of Control

You’ve just bagged the big promotion at work. You’ve finally managed to work out what’s been making the clunking noise in the attic late at night. You’ve gotten every single answer correct on the ‘How Many Types Of Cheese Can You Name’ quiz that you were taking while your boss thought you were working on the latest quarterly returns spreadsheet. On top of the world and at the peak of your game, everything is coming up *INSERT YOUR NAME HERE* and you know exactly who you have to thank for it.

If your answer is ‘me’, as in ‘I’ve got me to thank because, let’s face it, I’m awesome and I am nailing life right now‘, then chances are you have an internal locus.

However, if on the other hand, you attribute your recent successes to fate or luck, you’re far more likely to be working with an external locus.

When I first heard the term ‘The Locus of Control’ it inevitably conjured up images of some great, omnipotent acrididae flying through space, wielding reality-bending powers of destruction and benevolence gleefully wiggling its intergalactic antennae. Anyone else? No?

Just me, that’s fine.

But we’re not talking about a mythical grasshopper of destiny. The ‘Locus of Control’ is, in fact, the concept of an individual attributing the causes of their successes or failures to a specific factor.

Not so much a phenomena as just something a little less known (generally speaking), the Locus of Control greatly effects how we deal with everything from personal growth, to rejection, to the way we react when we are FINALLY triumphant at the annual Christmas family Pictionary/Scrabble/Monopoly-a-thon.

Take that, Aunty Whats-Yer-Name.

Studies suggest that people who have an ‘internal locus’ are less likely to suffer from anxiety whereas those who have an ‘external locus’ often believe that their failings are caused by ‘fate’ or the universe being ‘against’ them.

That’s not to say that having an external locus is always a bad thing. There are pros and cons to both sides of the locus coin. External locus types are more inclined to believe that fate or luck play a hand in our determining our experiences. But that, of course, can mean good fortune just as much as it can mean bad.

Internal types are generally more willing to acknowledge the impact of their own efforts on the outcome of work or projects, i.e. I got here because I worked hard.

When we think of characters throughout literature, or of the characters we create when writing, we probably tend not to consider what sort of locus they might have. But, if you were to go back through all of your favourite books right now, fresh with your new-found knowledge of the existence of the locus, I can all but guarantee you’d be able to see which category each of the characters fall into.

While some argue that being either an ‘internal’ or ‘external’ locus type of person is something intrinsic (i.e. inherent from birth), there are many who believe that childhood experiences are pivotal in influencing this aspect of our psyche.

Studies suggest that people who, from an early age, were encouraged to think and act independently and who were introduced to cause and effect (the consequences or rewards of our actions) whilst still in the cognitive development stages were far more likely to develop the internal locus.

It can be helpful to take this into account when developing or ‘padding out’ a character, especially if they are likely to encounter a successive streak of failures or humiliations over the course of their arc. And let’s face it, what good character doesn’t?

Naturally, with all things psychological, it isn’t always as simple as someone fitting into either one category or the other. Being an internal type doesn’t mean you won’t occasionally hurl your fist skyward in anger as you curse whatever powers of destiny that made you miss the last bus home.

Just like being an external type doesn’t mean you won’t ever feel the sense of personal accomplishment that comes from knowing that something good happened because of the energy and work that you put into making it so.

We humans are a flighty and changeable sort. So even if do find yourself leaning more towards the external locus, it doesn’t mean you can’t learn to accept your own greatness and take (relatively) humble credit for it.

Of course, if you are looking for someone to blame when things go wrong, you could always just imagine a giant grasshopper hurtling through the universe. Chances are, it probably is their fault anyway.

Until next time, look after yourselves, your bodies and your minds.

Writing Update: Games, Trains and Editing

I’m just popping in with a quick update tonight, usually, I’d try and get some fiction work or similar posted over the weekend, unfortunately, I’ve not had time to sift through my documents folder this week – it’s been busy, busy, busy!

After a quick break, I’m back to working on our regional talking newspaper. For me, that means reading through all the local stories, selecting articles for the upcoming week’s edition, editing them for our audience and recording.

What with lock-down still (mostly) in effect across the UK, the actual recording part has become somewhat more challenging, mainly due to the increased level of traffic through my kitchen/studio. Note; curious pets and teenage boys perpetually on the hunt for snacks do not for ambient background noises make. I’ve had to start recording in the shed just to get some peace, which seemed like a good idea right up until I realised that our cats thoroughly enjoy tap dancing on the roof first thing in the morning. I usually try to get all my editing done before 8.30 am, which appears to be prime feline chorus line time.

‘We Men of Ash and Shadow’ is back with the editor for final checks. I’m still on schedule for an ARC copy release to advance viewers in August, I’m hoping to do an official cover reveal at around the same time.

I’m also very excited to be returning as a blogger for Australian-owned games, merch and collectables company Dicebox. The business has undergone an online makeover since I last wrote for them, but they’re relaunching in the next few days. I’m looking forward to diving into the world of pop culture once again. Between now and November, I’ll be looking at Assassin’s Creed Valhalla, Cyberpunk 2077, movies, and more. I’ll be posting links and further information here as and when I’m able.

Lastly, for anyone in need of a little light and positivity before the start of the new week, every Sunday evening from 6 pm I am now running a positivity train on Twitter.

From Sunday evening until Monday morning my Twitter feed will be dedicated to digging out and sharing only good news stories, positive thoughts, and uplifting content from the depths of the internet. Feel free to follow, join in, or just read through for a little end-of-the-weekend-boost.

Happy Sunday night all. I’ll be back tomorrow with another ‘Dark Thoughts’ entry.

‘Dark Thoughts’ Psychology Part 4: Critical Crabs

‘That alone was reason enough for the entire population to keep themselves in a near permanent state of intoxication. It was better than waking up sober and realising the truth. They were all inmates in a prison of their own creation.’

Excerpt from We Men of Ash and Shadow

Forget what you learnt from watching ‘The Little Mermaid’. Contrary to what Disney would have you believe, crustaceans can be pretty nefarious.

Perhaps not completely evil, after all, they’re really just the spiders of the sea, and spiders, for the most part, are pretty harmless. While crabs don’t pose much of a threat to us (unless of course, you happen to be barefoot in the wrong place at the wrong time), there is one particular behavior they exhibit that seems, well, a little underhanded.

Or should that be clawed?

‘Crab Mentality’ – also known as the ‘Crab Bucket Effect’ – is a reaction to capture wherein any number of crabs in the same bucket will actively hinder any attempts at escape by another crab. Essentially, if one of them tries to crawl out of the bucket, the rest of the group will pull them back down. If the crabs allowed one another to climb without obstacle, there would be no reason that they could not all escape. Instead, they seem to take the attitude of ‘well if I’m stuck in here so are you‘.

Most of us would like to believe that we’re not like crabs. But we can all, often without realising or intending it, fall victim to this sort of mentality. This behavior is commonly replicated in human social groups both online and in real life. You see it all the time without ever noticing it. Truthfully? You’ve probably done it yourself. I know I have.

Admittedly, a lot of the time when we exhibit ‘Crab Mentality’ we do so thinking that we are acting in the best interests of the other person. Or that we are trying to be kind.

For example, how many times upon hearing a friend say ‘I need to go on a diet’, do we automatically respond with ‘What? That’s ridiculous, you’re perfect as you are, here have another piece of cake.’ (Admittedly this response is the easiest as we have all recently established that everything is, in fact, made of cake).

Are we just being nice to that person? Are we lifting them up? Or are we actually doing them a disservice by discouraging their desire for betterment? We probably do see our friends as being perfect just the way they are, and maybe they don’t need to lose any weight. But that isn’t the point.

Surely a better response would be ‘so what are your goals? I mean, I think you’re fantastic anyway but if you fancy it we can go for a hike this weekend?’

Why is it that so often, when people want to progress, we want them to stay where they are? One theory is that when someone makes a statement indicating a desire to change something that they perceive as an area they want to improve in, we consider any response that affirms that desire as a reinforcement of a negative perception.

Perhaps in our own way, we’re trying to protect them from failure. We all know how much it hurts when you try something and it doesn’t quite go the way that you wanted, or when we’re just not up to a task. We could argue that maybe this is part of the reason that a lot of us aren’t that good with constructive criticism.

It all comes down to using the right words, expressing ourselves more effectively, and being more considerate of the impact our reactions will have, regardless of their intention.

Imagine, if you will, that you’re a crab and instead of crawling your way out of the bucket, you’re trying to write, or paint, or learn, or exercise your way out of it.

Now, instead of the other crabs grabbing you by the legs and pulling you back down into a heaving pile of squirming, barnacle-covered crustaceans, they’re holding you back with words.

They’re telling you that you’re amazing when the truth is, perhaps there are things that you could be doing better. They don’t point out your mistakes or areas of weakness.

Just to clarify, I am not suggesting that we should all suddenly start being deeply critical of each other and wantonly pointing out other people’s flaws without invitation.

There is a time and a place for critique, and a manner in which it should be delivered. For anyone looking to improve anything, constructive criticism is vital. But so is learning how to give it and receive it appropriately.

The point that I am making is this – sometimes, our attempts to make people feel better result in nothing more than us holding them back. Lifting people up doesn’t equate to telling them that they’re perfect. It means believing in their ability, potential and encouraging them to keep on crawling out of the bucket.

Of course, as much as I truly believe in the overall decency of people and that most of us act this way for the reasons stated above (protection, kindness), there will always be those who hold you back for more self-serving reasons.

Resentment, jealousy, and a desire to maintain the status quo will always compel some people to hinder progression and reject change. These people will use different tactics to keep you from crawling to freedom, and will deliberately and consciously seek to undermine your confidence and self-identity.

They won’t tell you that you don’t need to change because you’re great just the way you are. They’ll tell you that you can’t change, or shouldn’t change because you’re stupid, or wrong or don’t have what it takes.

Don’t listen to them. If nothing else, I think this just proves that the chances are they probably aren’t even people. They’re just giant sentient crabs walking around in humanoid skin suits. Let’s be honest, it wouldn’t be the weirdest thing 2020 has thrown at us by a long shot.

Until next time – be good to yourselves, your bodies and your minds.

Short Fiction – ‘Walt’

‘Walt’ is a short post-apocalyptic fiction work, written as original content for this site.

The same scrawny seabird had been staring at the deck of the boat for the past few hours. It had not blinked once in all that time. The creature sat, spindly claws scratching idly at the wood. There was a gentle swell to the waves that took them up and brought them back down again, the bird and boat moving as if one with the motion. Cocking a featherless head to one side, it observed the strange shape lying before it. A few days previously it might have passed for human. It was well beyond that now. The bird wondered where the lump might have come from, and how long it might take for it to get wherever it was going. They were far from land.

Overhead, a bright and unforgiving sun continued to burn as though nothing had changed. It had a job to do, regardless of whatever had gone on below it. The sky was blue and endless, stretching on forever. It was the rest of the world that had come to an end.

The bird looked up and gave a shrill cry, as if to confirm its presence to whatever was left of existence. There was no reply.

It shook itself, the few remaining feathers around its neck ruffling. It hopped down to the floor and skipped a few steps back and forth towards the man lying stretched out across the boards. Tentatively, it reached out and pecked at a boot. The boot moved slightly. It did not seem pleased at being disturbed. The bird flapped its wings and reclaimed its perch on the bow.

There was the sound of groaning. A tongue flickered across dry, cracked lips. They tasted of smoke and sea water. The owner of the tongue kept his eyes closed.

Opening them would not change anything. He would see nothing different to what he had seen when he had closed them several hours ago – blue above him, blue below and nothing else in between.

It would have been better to simply not have woken up at all. Instead, he came to the mournful realisation that they were still adrift. Jerome had not been sure at first, if it had all just been a terrible dream. As he felt the soft undulation of the sea beneath him, he realised that it was real. There was nobody else; Jerome was alone in the void.

It had taken some time to accept that he was, more than likely, the last man left on Earth. For the first few days at least, he had held out some hope that he had not been the only one to survive. With unyielding optimism he had searched for others. Miles and miles had passed beneath him, the water lapping at the sides of his vessel. He could not tell how many days had since passed. Every now and again, he would stop and look up at the sun or the moon. He wondered if they could see anything else left alive, still out there on the water. After a while, he assumed that they did not. There was nobody else left. The sea had claimed them all.

His stomach ached, pain gnawing away at what was left inside him, which wasn’t much. The last thing he had eaten had been raw mackerel and most of that had come back up the way it entered. At that point the will to survive had still burned. The light had long since flickered and died. It was as useful to him now as prayer.

Death was coming for him, as it had come for all people. For most of the world, it had come quickly and savagely – their homes and lives washed away by the tide. Where the sea had taken his family and loved ones, time would eventually take Jerome. All he could do was wait.

“Scrawk.”  The bird bent down and pecked at its own feet.

“Sod off.”

The words caught in his throat, dry and scratching. The bird took no heed. Instead it hopped back down into the boat beside him. With slow movements, Jerome pulled himself up slightly – just enough to be able to sit upright. They bobbed up and down on the swell of the waves considering their shared plight. The bird coughed up a little viscous bile.

There was enough fresh water left in the last flask to last until nightfall. Jerome had only intended to be out at sea for two or three days at most. The vessel was not designed for long voyages. It was something of a miracle that it had lasted this long. Perhaps miracle was not the best choice of words.

Jerome could feel his body withering away to nothing, his bones growing weaker. He wondered how long the human will to survive against all odds was predetermined to last. Later, if he could find the strength, he might finally build the courage to pull himself over the side and into the blue. A braver man would have done it already.

There was, however, a part of Jerome that was loathe to let the sea take him. It had already consumed every other living being on the planet. If he was, as he suspected, the last living man on Earth then Jerome would deny the waves their final victim. It would be one last middle finger from the human race to the great Mother Nature. She could take the world, but she would not take Jerome.

He tipped a little of the liquid from the flask against his mouth, enough to wet his lips but nothing more. The bird, seemingly encouraged by Jerome’s increased movement, jumped up so that it perched upon his leg.“I said sod off.”

“Scrawk.”

It suddenly occurred to Jerome that the strange creature sitting on his knee might well have been the only other living thing left above the surface of the water. Their exchange might be the last conversation that the world would ever hear. The bird blinked curiously. Jerome had never been a particularly profound man. “Just you and me then, eh?”

The bird did not respond.

“I’ll give you a name then shall I?”

The bird didn’t particularly want nor need a name. It had lived its entire life quite happily without one. Jerome, however, felt that if this were to be his companion through the final hours of his life, it was only right they should be on a first name basis. “I shall call you ‘Walt’.”

Walt appeared to have been a gull of some sort, although it was hard to be certain. From the top of its head down to its throat the creature was mostly pink, due to a distinct lack of plumage. The rest of it was scantily peppered with grey and blackened feathers. Jerome thought the bird might like to remember itself as it once was. “You’re a fine lookin’ bird.” Walt scratched at his leg, digging around in the material to see what was beneath. “Stop that.”

Somehow it seemed fitting that Walt had arrived now and not in the days previously. At that time, Jerome had still been hopeful that he would come across some patch of land, or better yet, another person. Had Walt arrived back then, it was highly likely that Jerome would have eaten him.

The thought of food moved his stomach, the empty chambers of his bowels cramping. Jerome had always assumed that when a man was left to contemplate his own death, his last thoughts would have been of things profound and meaningful – of journeys never taken or feuds not yet put to rest.

Now there were no more journeys to take and it would be impossible to lay any discord between him and others to rest. It was too late for that. So Jerome found himself instead mourning the fact that he would never again get to enjoy the crisp delights of a grilled cheese sandwich. He thought not of the afterlife, but simply the regret that he had not packed an extra slice of Monterey Jack into his lunchbox.

Reaching up he scratched at the top of his head with torn, jagged fingernails. Grease and oil had matted the hair together. It stuck up, unruly and dirty.

Turning, Jerome looked out over the rim of the boat. White foam spat and frothed in the distance. Dark clouds gathered to the east. The first storm since the wave was finally coming. It would seem that Mother Nature grew tired of waiting. The sea would soon come to claim what was hers and there was nothing Jerome could do.

“Go on then, hop it.” He shook his leg, attempting to disengage the bird’s claws from the coarse fabric of his trousers. The bird was reticent to give up his new perch. Jerome waggled his leg a little more fervently. If the storm was going to take them, he was going to get a better view of it. Walt looked disgruntled by the movement, but did as requested and jumped down onto the floor again.

As the waves began to roll, Jerome felt the cold wind against his cheeks. Walt began to sway gently, the bird far more adapt at keeping balance as the angle of the boat tipped first one way and then the other.

Jerome thought of home. He thought of the people he had left behind and the distinctly unremarkable life he had led – the fleeting friends that came and went, all the Christmas cards exchanged, long hours of work, and a marriage that had started out well and come to an end sixteen years later. Jerome wondered what Elaine had been doing when the wave came.

Walt fluttered up onto the bench, settling down and using Jerome’s arm as a windbreaker. The feathers on his chest ruffled against the wind. The waves rose higher.

Matthew would have liked to have met Walt. The boy had always been obsessed with animals, no matter how dirty or disgusting they may have been. Jerome still remembered the day that he had brought a rat into the kitchen. His mother had screamed bloody murder at the poor child. Matthew had fallen asleep on the porch swing, not daring to come back into the house lest he incur his mother’s wrath.

Jerome remembered the scent of his hair, the stickiness of his cheek pressed to his shoulder as he carried him up the stairs.

Walt let out a cry of alarm as the water began to cascade over the sides and onto the deck. Jerome wondered why he did not just fly away. Perhaps the little boat was the last place that the bird could find to roost. Great drops of rain began to fall. Jerome watched as they took the dust from Walt’s feathers, leaving behind streaks of black and grey.

The sky was closing. Jerome reached down and placed a hand on the bird. It did not flinch at his touch. The droplets got bigger, harder, crashing down and exploding across the deck. Walt let out another squawk, turning his head to look at Jerome with yellow, unblinking eyes.

Nothing had ever looked quite so real or quite so alive as Walt did in that moment. Never had Jerome felt so acutely aware of another presence. The touch of damp feathers beneath his hand brought a sense of relief that if nothing else, he was at least not alone. Neither of them would be.

Opening his jacket, Jerome picked Walt up and stuffed him inside the folds. The bird pressed against him, relishing the last few moments of warmth before they could be sucked from the world.

Jerome thought once more of Matthew, and all the things he now wished he had found the time to teach him.

His chest swelled, the beating of his heart echoing against the seabird’s shivering chest. They had not chosen each other, but they would face the storm together.

In truth, he needed that little bird as much as the bird needed him. Just as nobody wanted to be the first to die, Jerome did not want to be the last. Life would end, but it would not end alone.

Jerome and Walt sat together on the bench as the boat was tossed by the storm over and over. Together they rose up as if the sea were pushing them straight into whatever Heaven might be beyond the dark clouds. Jerome searched for a final glimpse of the sun. There was none to be seen, for it had turned away from them.

Taking his final breath, Jerome felt the push of the wave tip the boat forwards until they fell, tumbling and crashing together over the edge. Walt scratched at his chest as the waves pulled them into the blackness, choking, fighting until there was only stillness.

The remnants of the boat bobbed along the surface, battered and broken. A few scattered feathers danced on the waves. The clouds, content that their work had been done, parted to reveal a bright blue sky once more. The rays of light rippled across the water as the disenchanted sun shone down on the stillness and the silence that was left behind.

‘Dark Thoughts’ Psychology Part 3: Bystander Effect

‘As with many great changes, nobody had really noticed anything happening until it was too late. People went about their business, wilfully ignorant to the suffering of others.’

Excerpt from ‘We Men of Ash and Shadow’

Most of us have at some point or another, visualized what we would do in an emergency situation. Watching events like natural disasters or acts of terrorism unfolding on television and via social media, it’s no surprise that many people ask themselves ‘if that were me, what would I do?’.

The truth is, that as much as we may like to envision ourselves rising to become great heroes of the hour (this can be known as the conquering hero daydream, but more on that in another post) until you find yourself in a situation wherein you are watching an event unfold, there is no way of knowing how you would react.

Even as socially responsible humans, our ability to react to events depend on many factors. Our biology, psychology, morality and instincts all have a hand in how we respond to the world around us. Sometimes these factors work in sync and sometimes they don’t. We could argue that in order for us to evolve morally, we must fight a constant battle between our subconscious instincts and our conscious decisions.

We strive (or at least most of us do) to be good people and to do good things.

But there are times when, even if we want to act a certain way, our efforts are hampered by our natural inclinations. It has nothing to do with courage or the absence of it. The human mind is wired for survival. Shock, fear paralysis and cognitive dissonance are very real and common reactions to unanticipated events.

That isn’t to say that people aren’t capable of great acts of heroism. There are plenty of examples of amazing feats of kindness, bravery and selflessness. The point is that often, when people don’t act it is as a result of psychological factors and nothing to do with apathy or cowardice.

Take for example, the story of Kitty Genovese. The murder of Kitty in 1964, New York, made headlines not only for the brutality of an attack on an innocent woman in broad daylight, but also because of the reportedly high number of witnesses who observed the event but did nothing to help or intercede. Although later reports claimed the number of witnesses was lower than originally thought, there were still several people who saw the incident take place, yet the police were not called to the scene until some time after Kitty had lost her life. This event helped coin the term ‘Genovese Syndrome’ or ‘The Bystander Effect.’

Whilst our morally conscious selves may automatically feel judgement towards these witnesses and wonder how they could stand by whilst something so horrific happened, we must also strive to understand the psychological reasons behind this lack of action.

Psychologists posit that the ‘Bystander Effect’ is the social-psychological reaction to witnessing a traumatic event in the presence of others. Studies suggest that the more witnesses there are to an incident, the less likely it is that someone will offer assistance. Supposedly, the tendency towards inaction can be attributed to three main factors – shared social responsibility, the fear of incomplete information and the innate ‘flight or fight’ mode.

Shared social responsibility is the concept that, in any large crowd, the social responsibility to react to a crisis is shared equally among all people. Bystanders are less likely to react in a crowd because we tend to (subconsciously) assume there will always be a person of higher responsibility within a large number of people.

An example of this would be at the scene of a traffic accident – if you were the only person to witness the accident you would be far more likely to call an ambulance than if you were in a crowd. This is because your subconscious mind will assume that there is someone more qualified to handle the situation (such as a doctor) and as such you are far less competent – you may even fear that your interaction will make the situation worse.

When confronted with an unanticipated event, such as an attack, we often question whether our interpretation of the scene is correct. This was the case for many of the witnesses to the Genovese murder who, when questioned as to why they did not call the police, stated that they had interpreted the situation as a ‘lovers quarrel’ as opposed to a deliberate and unprovoked attack.

This is what we mean when we talk about assuming the information we have is incomplete. The lack of reaction from others in a crowd to a situation will further cement our perception that whatever is happening cannot be as bad as first thought.

A secondary effect of incomplete information is the fear that intervening in a situation can have negative or dangerous effects on ourselves as individual. Simply put, many people will not intercede when a mugging occurs even from a distance because that would divert attention away from the victim to themselves, potentially putting them at risk of attack. To our morally conscious minds this may seem like cowardice, but as mentioned earlier, our brains are wired to protect ourselves.

So does this mean that, if faced with a traumatic incident, we would all just stand by and let it happen?

Of course not. Humans are socially evolved to understand that we survive longer and have a better chance if we work together. We are naturally cooperative creatures (although a quick scroll through the internet may sometimes make it seem otherwise).

The Bystander Effect is just an example of where our conscious and subconscious decision making can conflict. Nelson Mandela once famously said – ‘courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it’ – well, it could be argued that courage is not just the triumph over fear itself, but over the subconscious bias to put our own well being above that of others.

We all like to think that we could be heroes (if you can read that sentence without thinking about David Bowie you’re doing better than me) – but the truth is that being a hero doesn’t always come naturally.

Doing the right thing socially, morally, and ethically is a decision we make. It takes effort. That’s why it’s important that while we celebrate those that do act in these situations, we do not preemptively judge those who struggle. None of us are born socially responsible – it is something we learn and strive to get better at.

In the end, all we can all do is try to be the best people that we can be, and hope that others around us will try to do the same thing.

Until next time – be good to yourselves, your bodies and your minds.

‘Dark Thoughts’ Psychology Part 2: Is That My Face?

‘The sitting room was cold and quiet. He took off his jacket and hung it on the coat stand. There was a mantelpiece over the hearth. In the middle of it, a bell jar containing a stuffed squirrel stood taking pride of place. His mother loved it. Tarryn couldn’t stand the thing. Looking into the glass he caught a glimpse of his reflection. The sight made his fingers twitch. The features that looked back at him were those of a being he did not recognise.’

Excerpt from ‘We Men of Ash and Shadow’

When Italian psychologist Giovanni Caputo invited fifty participants to take part in an experiment as part of a study conducted in 2010, the results gave an intriguing insight into how we perceive our images as reflected in a mirror. 

The idea of spending a significant amount of time staring unflinchingly at your reflection may not be everyone’s idea of a fun way to spend an afternoon, but having read about the ‘strange face illusion’ and becoming curious, I decided that I needed to try it for myself.

The original experiment saw all participants tasked with staring at their reflection in a mirror under dim light, for an extended time. After about ten minutes (in some cases less) the subjects reported seeing distorted versions of their faces as their reflections began to morph and alter. While some saw basic changes such as blurring, distortion, or shape change – others saw more prolific changes. Some subjects spoke of seeing their faces become those of family members or ancestors, whilst some reported their reflections taking on animal-like or monstrous qualities.

Many of the subjects reported feeling intense emotions when perceiving these visual changes. Some experienced dissonance or a detachment from their reflection. Others reported feeling comforted or as though they were being ‘watched over’ by a benevolent third party. Being of a curious disposition (and keen to discover my inner monster), I naturally decided that I should attempt to emulate the experiment at home to see what results it would incur.

I used a standard makeup mirror at my kitchen table, closed the blinds and shut off the lights so that I was sitting in low light, the small amount of natural sunlight peeking through the shutters being what I hoped would pass for ‘dim’ light. 

For the next several minutes I sat and stared at my face. Part of me was concerned that, because I knew the purpose of the experiment, the results would not be as authentic. After all, how could I be sure which changes to what I was seeing were as result of my imagination and what were as part of optical illusion?

I attempted to counter this by making sure that I did not allow my mind to wander too far from the focal point of the mirror – a little music in the background helped to keep my mind in check.

It did not take long before I began to experience some slight effects. It started with minor distortions, my eyebrows and eyes seeming to lower and lift with no discernible movement having physically been made. The closest comparison I can draw is that it began to look vaguely pixelated, as though sections of my face were flickering as if trying to fit together but with a slight time delay.

I also noticed that the tone and coloration to certain parts of my skin became greyer and appeared oily. To clarify, when I say ‘oily’ I do not mean in the traditional sense that skin can be a little ‘shiny’ or ‘greasy’. This was more like a sheen of diesel oil – darker, and more iridescent. This particularly happened in areas of my face where there were deep contours such as around my cheeks and nostrils.

As fun as this was to watch, I didn’t feel that this was particularly any sort of exciting illusion. Looking at anything for an extended period will result in the eye muscle movement that can cause these effects. I’d love to have been able to attribute it to my having found some innate magical shape-shifting ability, but sadly I know too much about the way that neurons work. Damn you, science.

Around the seven minute mark I started getting much more exciting results. The biggest change for me was seeing the bridge of my nose begin to widen. At certain points my face became almost Neanderthal-like, with my brow lowering and becoming significantly heavier and my nose becoming more prominent and flatter. From this point my eyes became a lot rounder and for a very short period my face took on almost deer/fawn-like quality. In essence I began to look very much like I’d just spent several hours being plastered with movie-set quality prosthetic makeup. It was really really interesting.

The most disappointing part of this illusion is that it relies heavily on your conscious mind not questioning what it is seeing – which means that the moment you realise something is not right, your brain attempts to correct the image. I know I experienced seeing these changes, but each one was only fleeting and lasted for a second or so at most.

As far as emotional reactions go, although the experiment was extremely interesting and worked far better than I had anticipated, I can’t say that it elicited any sort of emotional response. Again, this may just be because I already knew what the potential effects might be. 

I will concede to the feelings of detachment being true – after ten minutes of looking at my reflection, it became less and less clear that it was my face I was looking at.

Instead, it began to feel more like looking through a camera or at a video. There were times where it felt like looking at one of those paintings where the eyes follow you – especially given that there were times when I felt very definitely sure that my eyes were focused on a certain point of the mirror, but I could see that my reflection was looking at something else entirely. 

Nobody is sure of the absolute scientific reason behind this phenomenon, although there are plenty of logical and reasonable suggestions. The most likely explanation is that when faced with the same image for an extended period, the signals in our brain that decode visual input become tired, and somewhere on the route between our optic nerve and brain, some of this information gets lost. Our brains then, when met with an incomplete image, attempt to fill in the blanks. This is where we get the sort of strange effects as reported by the participants of Caputo’s study – because, when faced with an incomplete image of your face why wouldn’t your brain naturally assume you looked like a manticore or something else equally as exciting?

For further reading I would recommend taking a look at the original study as published by Caputo, or by performing a search for this and other similar studies conducted via Google Scholar.

Given the simplicity of the experiment and the fact that you don’t need any special equipment, I would certainly recommend trying this to see what sort of effects you encounter. I would be interested to read about the experiences of anyone else who tries this and how they felt about it afterward. If nothing else it’s worth it just to see if you turn into a dragon or some other mythical beast.

Until next time – take care of yourselves, your minds, and your bodies. 

‘Dark Thoughts’ Psychology Part 1: ‘The Call of the Void’

Warning – This post may contain triggers relating to suicidal thoughts and/or depression. Please read at your own discretion.

A few years ago I was visiting a friend who lived in an apartment complex. Each of the flats from the first floor up had a balcony that overlooked an inner courtyard in the middle of the complex. I don’t remember what floor we were on, but it was fairly high up so I would guess that it was about the third or fourth. After a day of catching up, we were sitting on the balcony with a drink in our hands just quietly chilling out.

I don’t recall what we were talking about, but I do distinctly remember looking out over the courtyard to the balcony of the flat opposite and thinking – I could jump that, I could do it. The rational part of my brain that knows about things like logic, distance and gravity would have known that there was no possible way I could jump from that balcony and make it across the (at a guess) thirty-foot gap.

But the voice in my head was certain – I could definitely do it. I was superman. The laws of nature wouldn’t apply to me.

I wasn’t depressed. I wasn’t suffering from any sort of anxiety at that time, and I had absolutely no desire to harm myself. Yet the urge to stand up and leap was alarmingly real. It wasn’t the first time either. There have been times I’ve stood at the edge of a cliff and heard that ‘little voice’ telling me to inch a little closer to the edge. When I hear a fast train coming into the station, I feel this incredible pull towards the tracks. I can run fast enough. I can make it.

Some people would mistake these for dark thoughts, but they aren’t.

This is actually an exceptionally common psychological phenomenon. It’s called ‘The Call of the Void’ and many people experience it at least once during their lifetime.

It is very important to point out that, whilst ‘Call of the Void’ (or l’appel du void as it is probably more commonly known) is more prevalent in people who suffer from anxiety, it is NOT an indicator of suicidal tendencies or desire. Most people who experience it do so without ever having suffered any major depressive phases. Almost half of all people will experience it at least once – with some people reporting to feel it on a regular basis.

The phenomenon commonly manifests in situations where you are confronted with a potentially life threatening situation. It is thought that people who suffer from anxiety may be more susceptible, due in part to their tendency to operate in a ‘high alert’ mode (making them more hyper-aware of negative stimuli).

There have been very few studies on the phenomenon; however, it is widely assumed that this reaction is caused by a particular method of processing thought.

The human brain functions on two levels – the conscious mind and the emotional mind. When confronted with a frightening or dangerous situation, the emotional mind will flood the brain network with ‘chatter’ causing the conscious brain to become overwhelmed. This is where we see physical reactions such as sweating, rapid breathing, and an elevated heart rate begin to happen.

While the purpose of the emotional mind is to process our chemical and physical reactions to stimuli, the conscious mind contains all of the information we have gathered over our lifespan in the form of our learned memory, experience and thought. I.e. when confronted with an oncoming car, the emotional mind may make your heart race but your conscious mind will tell you to step out of the path of the vehicle.

‘Call of the Void’ is fascinating, in that it occurs in situations where neither part of the brain has immediately recognised the potential dangers of the situation. Your conscious mind looks at the edge of the cliff and doesn’t really register it as a threat. So your emotional mind, which has already subconsciously identified the threat, manifests this recognition of danger as a compulsion to move towards it. Leap, etc.

This then allows your conscious mind to trigger survival tactics and/or rationale, allowing you to recognise the threat to your safety so that you can pull away. Essentially, your brain tells you to put your life at risk, so that it can save you from yourself.

As a writer who creates predominantly darker story lines, I find that learning and understanding more about the complex and intriguing reasons behind some of these psychological experiences helps me to create richer, more engaging characters.

If you are interested in learning more about the ‘Call of the Void’ there are some great articles available via Google search. The human mind is a wonderful, intricate thing. The more we can learn about it, the better we can understand ourselves.

Until next time, be good to yourselves, your minds and bodies.

Note: This article is based on information available from a study conducted by the University of Miami – if you or someone you know is struggling with intrusive thoughts of self-harm that are giving you cause for concern, you should contact a trained professional who can help you with support and guidance.

For UK readers – The Samaritans free helpline is open 24-7 on 116 123