Luke Walker's Blog: https://lukewalkerwriter.wordpress.com, page 22
January 31, 2015
A guest piece on Die Laughing
The lovely people over at Crystal Lake Publishing have been kind enough to let me do a guest piece on Die Laughing. Have a read this way (and wait for a couple of other pieces in the next week or two).
The deep end.
The deep end.
January 27, 2015
Die Laughing now available
January 26, 2015
Die Laughing: uploaded
I've just uploaded the final proof of Die Laughing so it should be available to buy in a couple of days. I'm willing to bet there'll be the odd line I'd like to change, but I could tinker with it forever. For good or bad, it's done and I'm happy with it.
Links to follow soon. In the meantime...
Links to follow soon. In the meantime...
January 24, 2015
Die Laughing: A sneak peek at Dead Leaves
The opening to what's probably the nastiest story in Die Laughing. This is Dead Leaves.
Dead leaves, all a mix of deep browns and glowing oranges, covered half the garden even though George Fleetwood had been out here not four days previously, raking through the leaves, pulling them into piles and chucking the mounds into the bin. Not that he minded too much. It wasn’t a bad price to pay for the two large oaks at the end of the garden standing on either side of his shed. When they bloomed around March, he always welcomed the sight although later in the year, he’d curse the mess of rotting foliage. Nine months into his early retirement, he finally had the time to take care of things like this, to paint fences and keep their wide garden tidy. He paused, wiped sweat from his forehead and took a few breaths. George was in good shape, but he couldn’t pretend to be a young man. His forties and much of his fifties were behind now. Fifty-nine last birthday and the only thing about him that looked younger was his hair. He ran fingers through the brown flecked with grey, then loosened the top of his jacket a little. The air, chilly but oddly pleasant and welcome in the way only late October could manage, slipped inside. He checked his watch. Just coming up for half past twelve. Amanda would be back in an hour. They’d have lunch and he’d spend a bit more of the afternoon out here. While he moaned about gardening to his wife, he knew she didn’t believe him for a second. He liked his time now. No more long shifts on the trains, no more journeys to the back end of beyond to work on the tracks, and no more standing outside in the strange, ugly pre-dawn light, watching the last of the night bleed out of the sky and fields and woods. None of that, thank you very—His rake caught on something hard and slipped from his hands. Fumbling, he caught the handle by luck and pulled it up. Leaves rained from the other end, whispering as they fell back to the damp grass. And to the thing buried under the bramble hedge bordering their garden from the field on the other side. George poked the object with the rake and the slight springiness made his mouth curl at the edges—only after a few moments did he realise he was baring his teeth. Sliding the rake gently, he pushed loose leaves from the spot, revealing its colours of white and red, the red discolouring the white in many places. He grew still. More leaves, disturbed by his movements and by the steady breeze, fell to the side. None of them made a sound as they landed on the other fading browns. With no idea he was going to move, George shoved the rake to the side of the object and pulled hard. It rolled over, spilling the last of the leaves.
Dead leaves, all a mix of deep browns and glowing oranges, covered half the garden even though George Fleetwood had been out here not four days previously, raking through the leaves, pulling them into piles and chucking the mounds into the bin. Not that he minded too much. It wasn’t a bad price to pay for the two large oaks at the end of the garden standing on either side of his shed. When they bloomed around March, he always welcomed the sight although later in the year, he’d curse the mess of rotting foliage. Nine months into his early retirement, he finally had the time to take care of things like this, to paint fences and keep their wide garden tidy. He paused, wiped sweat from his forehead and took a few breaths. George was in good shape, but he couldn’t pretend to be a young man. His forties and much of his fifties were behind now. Fifty-nine last birthday and the only thing about him that looked younger was his hair. He ran fingers through the brown flecked with grey, then loosened the top of his jacket a little. The air, chilly but oddly pleasant and welcome in the way only late October could manage, slipped inside. He checked his watch. Just coming up for half past twelve. Amanda would be back in an hour. They’d have lunch and he’d spend a bit more of the afternoon out here. While he moaned about gardening to his wife, he knew she didn’t believe him for a second. He liked his time now. No more long shifts on the trains, no more journeys to the back end of beyond to work on the tracks, and no more standing outside in the strange, ugly pre-dawn light, watching the last of the night bleed out of the sky and fields and woods. None of that, thank you very—His rake caught on something hard and slipped from his hands. Fumbling, he caught the handle by luck and pulled it up. Leaves rained from the other end, whispering as they fell back to the damp grass. And to the thing buried under the bramble hedge bordering their garden from the field on the other side. George poked the object with the rake and the slight springiness made his mouth curl at the edges—only after a few moments did he realise he was baring his teeth. Sliding the rake gently, he pushed loose leaves from the spot, revealing its colours of white and red, the red discolouring the white in many places. He grew still. More leaves, disturbed by his movements and by the steady breeze, fell to the side. None of them made a sound as they landed on the other fading browns. With no idea he was going to move, George shoved the rake to the side of the object and pulled hard. It rolled over, spilling the last of the leaves.
January 17, 2015
Die Laughing: A sneak peek at Coco
Die Laughing should be released by the end of the month. To celebrate, here's a sneak peek at one of the stories. This is from Coco.
The shape emerged from the wafting snow to float in the middle of the road. Screaming and not hearing himself, Atílio stamped on the brake. His car skidded through the slush, spinning around as he fought with the wheel and his headlights cast mad illumination and wild shadows in all directions. Dirty snow threw itself against the windows on both sides as the car came to a stop. Instinctively, Atílio checked the rear-view mirror. Nothing there but the growing gloom as the winter afternoon wound down towards sunset.
I see nothing. Nothing was there.
He let his breath out and turned.
The thing remained in the same spot. Snow obscured much of its shape, but not enough. Nowhere near enough. Its outline remained, waving and shifting as if the wind blew through it. A faint black pool contrasting with all the white. A bedsheet hung on a washing line, forgotten in the growing twilight. A stain in the air. Too many arms flexing and pulling back into the main bulk of the shape. It waved, beckoning him, revealing some of its arms and legs: arms for reaching, legs for running. Running very fast.
“Go away,” Atílio told it. His mouth shook. He said it again and the shaking grew worse. “You are not here. You can’t be here. You were never there and you are not here now.”
The shape emerged from the wafting snow to float in the middle of the road. Screaming and not hearing himself, Atílio stamped on the brake. His car skidded through the slush, spinning around as he fought with the wheel and his headlights cast mad illumination and wild shadows in all directions. Dirty snow threw itself against the windows on both sides as the car came to a stop. Instinctively, Atílio checked the rear-view mirror. Nothing there but the growing gloom as the winter afternoon wound down towards sunset.
I see nothing. Nothing was there.
He let his breath out and turned.
The thing remained in the same spot. Snow obscured much of its shape, but not enough. Nowhere near enough. Its outline remained, waving and shifting as if the wind blew through it. A faint black pool contrasting with all the white. A bedsheet hung on a washing line, forgotten in the growing twilight. A stain in the air. Too many arms flexing and pulling back into the main bulk of the shape. It waved, beckoning him, revealing some of its arms and legs: arms for reaching, legs for running. Running very fast.
“Go away,” Atílio told it. His mouth shook. He said it again and the shaking grew worse. “You are not here. You can’t be here. You were never there and you are not here now.”
January 8, 2015
January 3, 2015
Die Laughing - table of contents
To start the new year, what better way than to post the table of contents for Die Laughing? A few of the stories have changed from their original titles; I'm happy with all of them and as there are only another couple to go through, the collection should be published in the next few weeks.
STATIC PRISON BREAK THE FAIRY TALE COCO HER HAIR IN MY HANDS THEY ALWAYS GET INSIDE IN THE FILMS DEAD LEAVES DANDO AND THE STRANGER NEIGHBOURS DEATH'S CHRISTMAS PRESENCE UPLOAD APPROACHING DARKNESS SNOW SHADOWS THE ENGLISH NOWHERE ANTI – SOCIAL THE UNMARKED GRAVE TIME GENTLEMEN, PLEASE HOW TO LIVE FOREVER
STATIC PRISON BREAK THE FAIRY TALE COCO HER HAIR IN MY HANDS THEY ALWAYS GET INSIDE IN THE FILMS DEAD LEAVES DANDO AND THE STRANGER NEIGHBOURS DEATH'S CHRISTMAS PRESENCE UPLOAD APPROACHING DARKNESS SNOW SHADOWS THE ENGLISH NOWHERE ANTI – SOCIAL THE UNMARKED GRAVE TIME GENTLEMEN, PLEASE HOW TO LIVE FOREVER
December 23, 2014
Yet another end of year post from yet another writer
I was planning on doing this in another week or so, but with working on Die Laughing and the usual stuff going on over Christmas, I thought it better now. So 2014 and all that.
Publication wise, it's been a bit quiet. A couple of short stories found a home, but no novels, sadly. On the other hand, there are still a few submissions I'm yet to hear back for so I can't write those off yet.
Writing wise, it's been a year of ups and downs. Myrefall proved a total nightmare to write; the novella I wrote after the first draft of Myrefall kicked my arse was marginally easier (and now has the working title of Ascent) although both will require a lot of work in the new year. If you've read any of my recent posts, you'll know most of the last few months has been taken up by work on Die Laughing. It's been harder than I thought to get every story as I want although that's probably a good thing. For a few reasons, I want this collection to be as close to perfect as I can get it. Obviously, I'm publishing it on my own, and while there are some great self-published books available, there are also some not so great (working in a library means I see my fair share). I don't want Die Laughing lumped in with the second load, so it needs to shine. Another reason is I've never done anything like this before. It's a bit of an experiment to see how it goes with just me behind it. In any case, writing, re-writing, getting feedback and critiques from other writers and an editor friend has taken a lot more time and energy than I expected.
Mirror of the Nameless continues to get a few decent reviews which is nice enough in itself but as The Red Girl and 'Set are now no longer available (no idea what's going to happen with those two in the future. Something, hopefully), it's a great pick me up to hear people like that one. I do, too. And while I don't have any immediate plans to return to that world, I never say never.
But enough looking back. 2015 is on its way. Die Laughing should be available some time in late January. Once that's published, I'll obviously be promoting it through guest posts and interviews (and if you read it, you can always do me the major large of posting honest reviews and telling others). Writing plans - back to Myrefall and Ascent. Probably the novella first. I'm still thinking a Die Hard meets Jacob's Ladder sort of thing. We'll see how it goes. And even though Myrefall has repeatedly kicked my arse, I'll finish the damn thing and come up with the version I like. After that, it's brand new stuff because there are always monsters to write about as well as the people who will either face those monsters or die trying.
Oh, and that Lovecraft story I mentioned with the three versions that all sucked the big one? I finished a fourth and subbed it this evening.
Merry Christmas and a happy new year.
Publication wise, it's been a bit quiet. A couple of short stories found a home, but no novels, sadly. On the other hand, there are still a few submissions I'm yet to hear back for so I can't write those off yet.
Writing wise, it's been a year of ups and downs. Myrefall proved a total nightmare to write; the novella I wrote after the first draft of Myrefall kicked my arse was marginally easier (and now has the working title of Ascent) although both will require a lot of work in the new year. If you've read any of my recent posts, you'll know most of the last few months has been taken up by work on Die Laughing. It's been harder than I thought to get every story as I want although that's probably a good thing. For a few reasons, I want this collection to be as close to perfect as I can get it. Obviously, I'm publishing it on my own, and while there are some great self-published books available, there are also some not so great (working in a library means I see my fair share). I don't want Die Laughing lumped in with the second load, so it needs to shine. Another reason is I've never done anything like this before. It's a bit of an experiment to see how it goes with just me behind it. In any case, writing, re-writing, getting feedback and critiques from other writers and an editor friend has taken a lot more time and energy than I expected.
Mirror of the Nameless continues to get a few decent reviews which is nice enough in itself but as The Red Girl and 'Set are now no longer available (no idea what's going to happen with those two in the future. Something, hopefully), it's a great pick me up to hear people like that one. I do, too. And while I don't have any immediate plans to return to that world, I never say never.
But enough looking back. 2015 is on its way. Die Laughing should be available some time in late January. Once that's published, I'll obviously be promoting it through guest posts and interviews (and if you read it, you can always do me the major large of posting honest reviews and telling others). Writing plans - back to Myrefall and Ascent. Probably the novella first. I'm still thinking a Die Hard meets Jacob's Ladder sort of thing. We'll see how it goes. And even though Myrefall has repeatedly kicked my arse, I'll finish the damn thing and come up with the version I like. After that, it's brand new stuff because there are always monsters to write about as well as the people who will either face those monsters or die trying.
Oh, and that Lovecraft story I mentioned with the three versions that all sucked the big one? I finished a fourth and subbed it this evening.
Merry Christmas and a happy new year.
December 13, 2014
New book review - Mirror of the Nameless
While it's cold and wintry and I carry on kicking Die Laughing into shape, have a gander at this review for Mirror of the Nameless. And I'll happily blow my own trumpet.
December 1, 2014
Die Laughing - the cover blurb
A monster from Portuguese folklore crosses countries and oceans to hunt the child who escaped it years ago.
The dead rise throughout Britain, leading a teenaged boy into a decision which will be either the easiest or hardest of his life.
In a pleasant suburbia, a young couple find a link full of terrible possibilities between their new home and Jack the Ripper’s horrendous crimes.
Three friends lost on a hiking weekend in the Pennines discover the way home means facing a monstrous god from the freezing void beyond the world.
In the near future, anti-social behaviour isn't met with anger or complaint. It's met with a gun.
And after a voyeur bulldozes her privacy on the daily commute, a young woman fights back, leading to bloody consequences.
In these stories and more, you are invited to face the cold horrors of restless spirits and the ugly possibilities of future nightmares. You are invited to look them in eye and make your choice.
Will you die laughing or live screaming?
Die Laughing. January 2015.
