Luke Walker's Blog: https://lukewalkerwriter.wordpress.com, page 26
March 28, 2014
Writing advice part 3: Publishing myths
My area is what’s known as traditional publishing. Basically, I send a few chapters to publishers and agents and if they like it, they ask to see more. If they like that, they accept it for publication. If not, well, then I get the dreaded rejection email. ‘Thanks for your work, but it’s not right for us at this time’ sort of thing. There are other areas, of course. Self-publishing for one. It’s a growing business and it suits some writers perfectly. For some of us, it’s a hobby and a job for others. What’s important to remember about self-publishing is if you do it, you’re responsible for everything. Not just writing your book, but editing it, line editing, proof-reading and, crucially, marketing and promoting it. If you’re happy with fifty odd copies of your book to pass among family and friends and to have physically have a copy in your hand, then that’s fine. It’s what you want. But if you want total strangers to know about your book and buy it, then you’re going to have to market it effectively. And time spent doing that is time not spent writing your next book. It all depends on what you want to get from writing and publishing.
So the myths of traditional publishing. First one. You send your entire book to the acquisitions department of one of the big companies and wait a few weeks for them to say ‘this is great. Here’s twenty grand. The film rights will be with you in five minutes.’ No. The vast majority of book publishers won’t take a look at your book unless it comes from a literary agent. And an agent won’t take a look at your book unless it’s as polished as can be, and you follow their guidelines.
Second one. Agents are only in it for the money and if you sent them the opening of Pride and Prejudice, they’d reject it because there are no car chases and nudity on the first page. Again, wrong. Yes, there are bad agents out there just as there are bad builders who’ll do a poor job of doing your conservatory. Agents aren’t the snobby monsters some think they are. They’re not a barrier between writers and publishers. They’re the ones who can help you as writers. They can help you with publishing contracts, money questions, plot problems, advice on how to market yourself or simply being a pair of ears if you’ve got a moan. They do this because they care about books and they don’t get paid unless you get paid.
Third one and relating to what I just said about agents getting paid. Never pay a publisher or agent to read your submission. If they say your book looks great but they charge a reading fee, don’t send them a penny and tell others about them so they know who to avoid. Money flows towards you - the writer – not from you.
Fourth – and this is one of my favourites – it’s a get rich quick business. Everybody knows about Fifty Shades of Grey or the Twilight books or The Da Vinci Code. One thing those books all have in common is they all came along the right time and hit the right audience. They sold millions and they made millions for the publishers and the writers. Just about any writer who’s in it for the long haul wants to make a living out of it and they want a good living out of it. But the thing is, books like those three and all the others that sell loads are not the rule. It’s definitely possible to make a living out of writing, but your chances of being an overnight success and selling the same as a Dan Brown or JK Rowling aren’t high. People who don’t know about publishing and some newer writers see the stories that make the headlines about Fifty Shades originally being self-published and think it’s like that for every writer. It really, really isn’t. If you're in writing for the long term, I’d advise you to think of it as writing and having a new book released on a regular basis to make a living out of it rather than having one massive book that everyone’s talking about. Because eventually, they stop talking about it and you have to follow it with one equally as big. That’s very hard and very rare.
Last one. Publishers are only interested in the next big thing or the money-makers. They want exciting action and explosions on the first page and if they don’t get it, your book will go in the bin. Not true. We’ve all got different tastes. We all like different types of books. Publishers are the same. Some are exclusively romance or crime or horror but the thing they all have in common is they all want interesting characters doing or involved in interesting things. Whatever genre you write in, keep it interesting. That doesn’t mean it has to be over the top. It just means publishers want a reason to keep reading, to turn the page and think ‘one more chapter’ because they know if they do that, the readers will do the same.
Ultimately, writing is an artform in the same way painting or singing is, but publishing is a business. It wants to succeed and make money. Whether you’re fussed about cash or not, you should want to succeed as well.
So the myths of traditional publishing. First one. You send your entire book to the acquisitions department of one of the big companies and wait a few weeks for them to say ‘this is great. Here’s twenty grand. The film rights will be with you in five minutes.’ No. The vast majority of book publishers won’t take a look at your book unless it comes from a literary agent. And an agent won’t take a look at your book unless it’s as polished as can be, and you follow their guidelines.
Second one. Agents are only in it for the money and if you sent them the opening of Pride and Prejudice, they’d reject it because there are no car chases and nudity on the first page. Again, wrong. Yes, there are bad agents out there just as there are bad builders who’ll do a poor job of doing your conservatory. Agents aren’t the snobby monsters some think they are. They’re not a barrier between writers and publishers. They’re the ones who can help you as writers. They can help you with publishing contracts, money questions, plot problems, advice on how to market yourself or simply being a pair of ears if you’ve got a moan. They do this because they care about books and they don’t get paid unless you get paid.
Third one and relating to what I just said about agents getting paid. Never pay a publisher or agent to read your submission. If they say your book looks great but they charge a reading fee, don’t send them a penny and tell others about them so they know who to avoid. Money flows towards you - the writer – not from you.
Fourth – and this is one of my favourites – it’s a get rich quick business. Everybody knows about Fifty Shades of Grey or the Twilight books or The Da Vinci Code. One thing those books all have in common is they all came along the right time and hit the right audience. They sold millions and they made millions for the publishers and the writers. Just about any writer who’s in it for the long haul wants to make a living out of it and they want a good living out of it. But the thing is, books like those three and all the others that sell loads are not the rule. It’s definitely possible to make a living out of writing, but your chances of being an overnight success and selling the same as a Dan Brown or JK Rowling aren’t high. People who don’t know about publishing and some newer writers see the stories that make the headlines about Fifty Shades originally being self-published and think it’s like that for every writer. It really, really isn’t. If you're in writing for the long term, I’d advise you to think of it as writing and having a new book released on a regular basis to make a living out of it rather than having one massive book that everyone’s talking about. Because eventually, they stop talking about it and you have to follow it with one equally as big. That’s very hard and very rare.
Last one. Publishers are only interested in the next big thing or the money-makers. They want exciting action and explosions on the first page and if they don’t get it, your book will go in the bin. Not true. We’ve all got different tastes. We all like different types of books. Publishers are the same. Some are exclusively romance or crime or horror but the thing they all have in common is they all want interesting characters doing or involved in interesting things. Whatever genre you write in, keep it interesting. That doesn’t mean it has to be over the top. It just means publishers want a reason to keep reading, to turn the page and think ‘one more chapter’ because they know if they do that, the readers will do the same.
Ultimately, writing is an artform in the same way painting or singing is, but publishing is a business. It wants to succeed and make money. Whether you’re fussed about cash or not, you should want to succeed as well.
March 26, 2014
Writing advice part 2: Tips for writing
So tips for writing. Notice I didn’t say tricks. I’ve seen ‘tricks to writing’ a lot and I hate it. It covers everything from flow charts and graphs that supposedly show when you’re at your most productive or word patterns that apparently focus on the best words to use in a sentence or paragraph, words that will get the attention of an agent. Total rubbish. There are no tricks to writing. No magic formulas. No way you can predict what will sell or what will be the next big thing, and no point in aiming to write the next big thing. The only thing you can do, literally the only thing in your control, is write your book as well as you can, get feedback on it from people who know what they’re talking about and then see if their advice makes sense for your book.
Saying that, it can be very hard to sit down and write when you think the stuff you’re coming out with is no good or you get rejection after rejection from publishers and agents. Trust me. I know that. But like I said, nobody else is going to write your book for you. If you want any chance of others reading it and enjoying it, you have to write it. So the best ways I know how to do that, the ways that work for me:
If you’re writing on anything with an internet connection, turn the net off. It’s a very useful tool, but it can be a big, big distraction. Ten minutes on Facebook and you see a link to Youtube. You watch that and something else catches your eye. Then half an hour is gone. Unless you’ve got the luxury of writing full time, half an hour of your writing session can be a fair chunk of it. So turn the net off when you’re writing.
Have a writing area. Obviously we don’t all have a spare room or somewhere we can shut the door to everyone else in the house, so if not, have a spot in a room that’s for writing and nothing else. The corner of your bedroom, the kitchen table when everyone else is in the living room. Wherever it is, it needs to be your writing place and whoever you live with needs to appreciate that. You don’t want to get defensive or argumentative about it. You just need to let them know that while you’re writing, that area is yours. Of course, some people write in public. It’s a bit of a stereotype, but there is some truth to the image of a writer sitting in Starbucks with their laptop. That’s not for me at all. My wife and I are lucky enough to have a spare room and there’s no way I could write in public. Again, it’s one of those ‘if it works for you, it’s the best way’ things. As long as you’ve got a room or area that’s yours to write in, that's what matters.
Set yourself targets. For newer writers, I’d say give yourself a target of 500 words in a session. Now the length of your session will vary. We’ve got jobs and families and we sometimes even need to eat and sleep. But say you’ve got two hours spare. 500 words. 250 words in an hour. Once you’ve got that 500 words, take a break. Come back to it the next day for another 500 words. The more experinced you become and more comfortable with writing, up that 500 to a 1000. But don’t get bogged down in writing speeds with other writers. We all work at our own pace. If you know someone who does 1000 words to your 500 or 2000 to your 1000, it doesn’t matter.
Stay healthy. Let’s face it, writing isn’t the most active of jobs. You spend hours sitting down, moving occasionally to go to the loo or put the kettle on or have another biscuit. The same with anything you do, it’s important to remember to take care of yourself and not just think ‘oh, it doesn’t matter if I sit here for another hour without standing up.’ If you’re writing for a fair length of time, take a break even if it’s just for a few minutes. Stand up and have a stretch. If nothing else, it’ll get the blood flowing in your head and wake you up a bit.
Write regularly. I see a lot of writers saying you have to write everyday which I don’t agree with. If you can without exhausting yourself or affecting your family life or day to day job, then cool. Go for it. But you don’t have to. Personally, I write Monday and Tuesday nights, take Wednesday night off, write again Thursday and take Friday night off. Then I do most Saturdays and Sundays. I want to spend time with my wife and family and friends; I want to turn my brain off and I don’t want to get burned out so I take breaks. I’d advise you to, as well. As long as you’ve got times you know are writing times like you know the hours of your job, you’re fine.
As I said recently, be professional. You’re professional in your jobs or when dealing with people in a formal situation. Keep that in mind with writing because, if you want to really get anywhere with it, I’d advise you to treat it like another job. If you’re talking to other writers or someone in the publishing world – whether that’s in person or online – remember you’re giving total strangers an impression of yourself. You don’t want to come across as unprofessional or someone they don’t want to spend any time with. And I’d definitely remind you that when sending stuff to agents or publishers, treat it like preparing for a job interview. Read your emails and letters a couple of times before you send them. I say that because I’m the man who emailed an agent to say I appreciated how busy they were. Except I told them I appreciated how busty they were. As a for instance on being unprofessional, over at absolutewrite, there's a Share Your Work section where you can upload a sample of your work for feedback. I’d been there a few weeks and read the opening to a guy’s story. With the best will in the world, it was awful. Now he'd proved he had the discipline to write but he lacked focus and couldn’t be impartial about his own stuff. A lot of the feedback was along the lines of ‘must try harder’. This guy flipped. He told everyone they had no idea what they were talking about – and bear in mind there were hundreds of published writers as well as editors and agents on the site – and they’d missed the point of his story and they’d hear how famous he was in the future. Very embarrassing. It's best part of eight years since I read that and I still remember how unprofessional that guy was.
The last two are probably the most important. To me, anyway. We’ve gone through the importance of writing regularly – not necessarily everyday but regularly – but there’s another writing related thing it’s important to do on a regular basis.
Reading. You know when people say ‘I don’t have time to read’? Well, that’s fair enough. We lead busy lives. Work, family, friends, stress, shopping, taking care of your homes. There’s a lot going on for everyone. But I bet when someone says they don’t have time to read, they’ve got time to go online or watch TV or do a lot of other things. If you don’t want to read, that’s another issue. It’s not the same as not having the spare time to do it. And I don’t believe for a second anyone can write fiction unless they read fiction. It’s like if I wanted to be a professional footballer – and believe me that’s never going to happen – I’d be expected to do a lot of football related stuff as well as playing it. Exercise, keep up to date with what’s happening in the business, know who’s who. All of that would help me be a better footballer. It’s the same with reading. Read regularly and I guarantee your writing will improve.
In the same way we shouldn’t beat ourselves up if we don’t write everyday, don’t get stressed if you can’t read everyday. All I’ll say is always have a book on the go. Ask others what they’re reading, read book reviews or even wander around your local library and find a new author you’ve never heard of. If that book’s not your thing, then fair enough. There are a billion other books to choose from and reading often will do you a lot of good.
Last one. Having someone to talk to about writing. I know some writers don’t like to go into detail about what they’re writing while writing it. I’m one of them. But I know I can talk to my wife about the ups of down of writing. It’s a big help. Writing is obviously a solitary activity. You’re in your room or Starbucks or at the kitchen table and you’re by yourself. It can get a bit disheartening sometimes so letting that out is a good idea. Whether it’s a partner, a friend, have someone to talk to about your work.
Saying that, it can be very hard to sit down and write when you think the stuff you’re coming out with is no good or you get rejection after rejection from publishers and agents. Trust me. I know that. But like I said, nobody else is going to write your book for you. If you want any chance of others reading it and enjoying it, you have to write it. So the best ways I know how to do that, the ways that work for me:
If you’re writing on anything with an internet connection, turn the net off. It’s a very useful tool, but it can be a big, big distraction. Ten minutes on Facebook and you see a link to Youtube. You watch that and something else catches your eye. Then half an hour is gone. Unless you’ve got the luxury of writing full time, half an hour of your writing session can be a fair chunk of it. So turn the net off when you’re writing.
Have a writing area. Obviously we don’t all have a spare room or somewhere we can shut the door to everyone else in the house, so if not, have a spot in a room that’s for writing and nothing else. The corner of your bedroom, the kitchen table when everyone else is in the living room. Wherever it is, it needs to be your writing place and whoever you live with needs to appreciate that. You don’t want to get defensive or argumentative about it. You just need to let them know that while you’re writing, that area is yours. Of course, some people write in public. It’s a bit of a stereotype, but there is some truth to the image of a writer sitting in Starbucks with their laptop. That’s not for me at all. My wife and I are lucky enough to have a spare room and there’s no way I could write in public. Again, it’s one of those ‘if it works for you, it’s the best way’ things. As long as you’ve got a room or area that’s yours to write in, that's what matters.
Set yourself targets. For newer writers, I’d say give yourself a target of 500 words in a session. Now the length of your session will vary. We’ve got jobs and families and we sometimes even need to eat and sleep. But say you’ve got two hours spare. 500 words. 250 words in an hour. Once you’ve got that 500 words, take a break. Come back to it the next day for another 500 words. The more experinced you become and more comfortable with writing, up that 500 to a 1000. But don’t get bogged down in writing speeds with other writers. We all work at our own pace. If you know someone who does 1000 words to your 500 or 2000 to your 1000, it doesn’t matter.
Stay healthy. Let’s face it, writing isn’t the most active of jobs. You spend hours sitting down, moving occasionally to go to the loo or put the kettle on or have another biscuit. The same with anything you do, it’s important to remember to take care of yourself and not just think ‘oh, it doesn’t matter if I sit here for another hour without standing up.’ If you’re writing for a fair length of time, take a break even if it’s just for a few minutes. Stand up and have a stretch. If nothing else, it’ll get the blood flowing in your head and wake you up a bit.
Write regularly. I see a lot of writers saying you have to write everyday which I don’t agree with. If you can without exhausting yourself or affecting your family life or day to day job, then cool. Go for it. But you don’t have to. Personally, I write Monday and Tuesday nights, take Wednesday night off, write again Thursday and take Friday night off. Then I do most Saturdays and Sundays. I want to spend time with my wife and family and friends; I want to turn my brain off and I don’t want to get burned out so I take breaks. I’d advise you to, as well. As long as you’ve got times you know are writing times like you know the hours of your job, you’re fine.
As I said recently, be professional. You’re professional in your jobs or when dealing with people in a formal situation. Keep that in mind with writing because, if you want to really get anywhere with it, I’d advise you to treat it like another job. If you’re talking to other writers or someone in the publishing world – whether that’s in person or online – remember you’re giving total strangers an impression of yourself. You don’t want to come across as unprofessional or someone they don’t want to spend any time with. And I’d definitely remind you that when sending stuff to agents or publishers, treat it like preparing for a job interview. Read your emails and letters a couple of times before you send them. I say that because I’m the man who emailed an agent to say I appreciated how busy they were. Except I told them I appreciated how busty they were. As a for instance on being unprofessional, over at absolutewrite, there's a Share Your Work section where you can upload a sample of your work for feedback. I’d been there a few weeks and read the opening to a guy’s story. With the best will in the world, it was awful. Now he'd proved he had the discipline to write but he lacked focus and couldn’t be impartial about his own stuff. A lot of the feedback was along the lines of ‘must try harder’. This guy flipped. He told everyone they had no idea what they were talking about – and bear in mind there were hundreds of published writers as well as editors and agents on the site – and they’d missed the point of his story and they’d hear how famous he was in the future. Very embarrassing. It's best part of eight years since I read that and I still remember how unprofessional that guy was.
The last two are probably the most important. To me, anyway. We’ve gone through the importance of writing regularly – not necessarily everyday but regularly – but there’s another writing related thing it’s important to do on a regular basis.
Reading. You know when people say ‘I don’t have time to read’? Well, that’s fair enough. We lead busy lives. Work, family, friends, stress, shopping, taking care of your homes. There’s a lot going on for everyone. But I bet when someone says they don’t have time to read, they’ve got time to go online or watch TV or do a lot of other things. If you don’t want to read, that’s another issue. It’s not the same as not having the spare time to do it. And I don’t believe for a second anyone can write fiction unless they read fiction. It’s like if I wanted to be a professional footballer – and believe me that’s never going to happen – I’d be expected to do a lot of football related stuff as well as playing it. Exercise, keep up to date with what’s happening in the business, know who’s who. All of that would help me be a better footballer. It’s the same with reading. Read regularly and I guarantee your writing will improve.
In the same way we shouldn’t beat ourselves up if we don’t write everyday, don’t get stressed if you can’t read everyday. All I’ll say is always have a book on the go. Ask others what they’re reading, read book reviews or even wander around your local library and find a new author you’ve never heard of. If that book’s not your thing, then fair enough. There are a billion other books to choose from and reading often will do you a lot of good.
Last one. Having someone to talk to about writing. I know some writers don’t like to go into detail about what they’re writing while writing it. I’m one of them. But I know I can talk to my wife about the ups of down of writing. It’s a big help. Writing is obviously a solitary activity. You’re in your room or Starbucks or at the kitchen table and you’re by yourself. It can get a bit disheartening sometimes so letting that out is a good idea. Whether it’s a partner, a friend, have someone to talk to about your work.
March 23, 2014
Writing advice part 1: Planning
It recently looked as if I'd have chance to hold a writers' workshop at work - get a few people together and I'd talk about writing and some aspects of publishing before they shared some of their own experiences. As it turned out, the workshop had to be cancelled for a couple of reasons, but as I'd already made some notes, I thought they might be worth adapting to post here. (The original plan involved a fair bit of back and forth with the people involved, so feel free to comment). So for my first one, I'll talk about planning fiction. After that, I'll go through tips on improving your writing skills, debunking the myths of the publishing industry, working with agents and how we can use social media to develop our online presence. I'm not an expert by any means, but I do know what it takes to write a book a publisher will accept and I know a lot about the determination and drive it takes to keep going when it feels every single thing you submit comes back with a big fat rejection. With all that in mind, feel free to take any advice here that works for you and bin the rest...
I figured starting in the place writers begin their stories would be a good move. I’ve been hearing people argue about the best way to start or outline for years and there’s no point to the argument at all. Whichever way works for you is best for you. I really can’t emphasise that enough. If you want every detail – even the stuff that either doesn’t go in the book or ends up being cut – finalised before you start, then that’s cool. It’s for you. If you’re like Stephen King, who’s said more than once that he pretty much makes it up as he goes, that’s fine. As long as you get your story written in the end and don’t get lost in the planning or the stress of starting, then that’s what counts.
Personally, I come up with a pretty basic outline of the main characters and a breakdown of the scenes. Otherwise, I tend to write the first 10k to 15k words and dry up. I get lost. I really like the idea of starting with no idea what’s gong to happen next but I can’t do it. That’s how it works for me. I know a few writers who have pretty much everything in their story world as detailed as everything in their real world. If you’re writing epic fantasy – Game of Thrones sort of stuff for example – this can be very handy. If you’ve got dozens of characters in dozens of places and those places have their own histories and customs, it’s easy for the writer to lose track of what’s going on. And if the writer does, you can guarnatee the reader will. If that happens, you’ve lost. The last thing you want is to lose your reader or remind them they’re reading.
When it comes to characters, I find less is more. I don’t need or want to come with every little thing about them. Just the basics is fine because the reader fills in a lot of the stuff themselves. I’ve got no skills for drawing at all, but if I did and we all drew a picture of a famous fictional character who hasn’t been portrayed in film, I bet our drawings would all be very different because we all picture characters in books differently. So I wouldn’t advise anyone to get carried away with the physical description. Let it work itself out as you go. You can always add details later.
For me, and I imagine it’s the same for a lot of writers, the start of a book can be months or even years before I write anything. I don’t mean I spend all that time jotting down notes and making character profiles. I’d go mad doing that. I mean the basic idea for a plot or character can come along and sit with me for ages.
With that in mind, my first published book was I think the tenth I actually wrote. It was The Red Girl. That came from a couple of different things meeting at the right time. One of them was my second book. I wrote that twelve years ago. It’s about a group of friends in their last year of school and it’s rubbish, to be honest. The thing is, I really liked the characters and a few years back, I found myself wondering what they’d be up to now. They’d be in their thirties, and might be married with kids. They might have mortgages and stressful jobs and maybe the blokes would be losing their hair. I wanted to write about them again. At the same time, I had an idea for a ghost story and regret and the power of friendship. And there it was: the basis for the book that became The Red Girl.
I didn’t do anything with it straightaway. I was writing a couple of things but the idea wouldn’t leave me alone, so one day, I sat down and read the book I wrote in 2001 with the characters at school to reaquaint myself with them and then came with an outline of the scenes for the new book. I didn’t need to spend much time planning the characters, obviously, so that helped. Now with new books, I operate more or less the same way. A bit of background and description to the characters and then make sure each scene follows on smoothly from the one before it.
It’s definitely a case of whatever works for you as a writer is what’s best. I think we can all agree the most important thing is getting our stories written. Whether we plan or not, we need to get the stories written because if we don’t, well, who else will write our stuff?
I figured starting in the place writers begin their stories would be a good move. I’ve been hearing people argue about the best way to start or outline for years and there’s no point to the argument at all. Whichever way works for you is best for you. I really can’t emphasise that enough. If you want every detail – even the stuff that either doesn’t go in the book or ends up being cut – finalised before you start, then that’s cool. It’s for you. If you’re like Stephen King, who’s said more than once that he pretty much makes it up as he goes, that’s fine. As long as you get your story written in the end and don’t get lost in the planning or the stress of starting, then that’s what counts.
Personally, I come up with a pretty basic outline of the main characters and a breakdown of the scenes. Otherwise, I tend to write the first 10k to 15k words and dry up. I get lost. I really like the idea of starting with no idea what’s gong to happen next but I can’t do it. That’s how it works for me. I know a few writers who have pretty much everything in their story world as detailed as everything in their real world. If you’re writing epic fantasy – Game of Thrones sort of stuff for example – this can be very handy. If you’ve got dozens of characters in dozens of places and those places have their own histories and customs, it’s easy for the writer to lose track of what’s going on. And if the writer does, you can guarnatee the reader will. If that happens, you’ve lost. The last thing you want is to lose your reader or remind them they’re reading.
When it comes to characters, I find less is more. I don’t need or want to come with every little thing about them. Just the basics is fine because the reader fills in a lot of the stuff themselves. I’ve got no skills for drawing at all, but if I did and we all drew a picture of a famous fictional character who hasn’t been portrayed in film, I bet our drawings would all be very different because we all picture characters in books differently. So I wouldn’t advise anyone to get carried away with the physical description. Let it work itself out as you go. You can always add details later.
For me, and I imagine it’s the same for a lot of writers, the start of a book can be months or even years before I write anything. I don’t mean I spend all that time jotting down notes and making character profiles. I’d go mad doing that. I mean the basic idea for a plot or character can come along and sit with me for ages.
With that in mind, my first published book was I think the tenth I actually wrote. It was The Red Girl. That came from a couple of different things meeting at the right time. One of them was my second book. I wrote that twelve years ago. It’s about a group of friends in their last year of school and it’s rubbish, to be honest. The thing is, I really liked the characters and a few years back, I found myself wondering what they’d be up to now. They’d be in their thirties, and might be married with kids. They might have mortgages and stressful jobs and maybe the blokes would be losing their hair. I wanted to write about them again. At the same time, I had an idea for a ghost story and regret and the power of friendship. And there it was: the basis for the book that became The Red Girl.
I didn’t do anything with it straightaway. I was writing a couple of things but the idea wouldn’t leave me alone, so one day, I sat down and read the book I wrote in 2001 with the characters at school to reaquaint myself with them and then came with an outline of the scenes for the new book. I didn’t need to spend much time planning the characters, obviously, so that helped. Now with new books, I operate more or less the same way. A bit of background and description to the characters and then make sure each scene follows on smoothly from the one before it.
It’s definitely a case of whatever works for you as a writer is what’s best. I think we can all agree the most important thing is getting our stories written. Whether we plan or not, we need to get the stories written because if we don’t, well, who else will write our stuff?
March 15, 2014
On being professional
I recently read a tweet from a particular agent which began with #agenttip: and then a piece of advice for writers when it comes to submissions. One of the replies used the same hashtag to tell agents to actually read their submissions because they might find something decent. Unprofessional enough, you might think, but when the agent replied to say 95% of their authors came from the submission pile and that agents couldn't sell to publishers without them, the author replied with this stunner:
You don't sell books, publishers do. Those who can, write; those who can't become agents.
I had no skin left after reading that. It all crawled away and curled up in embarrassment. Here's the thing: writing is a frustrating business. You slave over a book; you polish it until you can quote the entire thing and you're sick of the sight of it. Then you send it off into the world in the hope someone will give you a few quid for it and you'll become a professional writer. Sometimes, you hear precisely jack in reply. Not even a wow, this book was a massive bag of crap. Never darken my inbox again, you total wanker. Other times, you get back the standard form reply you know has gone to another hundred people on the same day. I know that as well as any writer. Ask me how many submissions I've sent to publishers and agents over the last fifteen years and I honestly couldn't tell you. Hundreds. Thousands, maybe. But so what? The publishing world doesn't give a monkey's. Why should it? I've proved I can write a book someone wants to publish and others want to read. I've proved I've got the drive to write another one and then another, but I say again - so what? Why should the publishing world give a shit? They want a book from me that will make them sit up and take notice just like they want one from the snarky author quoted above. If the author here doesn't get that and thinks being a dick in public to an agent will win him any friends, he's very wrong.
All this doesn't mean writers should bow and scrape before agents like they're Victorian noblemen about to shove our children up their chimneys. It simply means this: be professional. You want people to treat your work with respect and take time out of their day or weekend or evening to read it, right? Well, what makes you think you'll get anywhere by not being professional? I've said it before and I'll say it again - publishing is a business. We're all professional in our working lives or when dealing with people we don't know. Why would interacting on Twitter be any different? It could well be the author doesn't want representation and that's cool. Not every writer does, but they'd do well to remember how we present ourselves in the flesh is how we should present ourselves online.
Otherwise, you're just being an arsehole. And nobody likes an arsehole.
You don't sell books, publishers do. Those who can, write; those who can't become agents.
I had no skin left after reading that. It all crawled away and curled up in embarrassment. Here's the thing: writing is a frustrating business. You slave over a book; you polish it until you can quote the entire thing and you're sick of the sight of it. Then you send it off into the world in the hope someone will give you a few quid for it and you'll become a professional writer. Sometimes, you hear precisely jack in reply. Not even a wow, this book was a massive bag of crap. Never darken my inbox again, you total wanker. Other times, you get back the standard form reply you know has gone to another hundred people on the same day. I know that as well as any writer. Ask me how many submissions I've sent to publishers and agents over the last fifteen years and I honestly couldn't tell you. Hundreds. Thousands, maybe. But so what? The publishing world doesn't give a monkey's. Why should it? I've proved I can write a book someone wants to publish and others want to read. I've proved I've got the drive to write another one and then another, but I say again - so what? Why should the publishing world give a shit? They want a book from me that will make them sit up and take notice just like they want one from the snarky author quoted above. If the author here doesn't get that and thinks being a dick in public to an agent will win him any friends, he's very wrong.
All this doesn't mean writers should bow and scrape before agents like they're Victorian noblemen about to shove our children up their chimneys. It simply means this: be professional. You want people to treat your work with respect and take time out of their day or weekend or evening to read it, right? Well, what makes you think you'll get anywhere by not being professional? I've said it before and I'll say it again - publishing is a business. We're all professional in our working lives or when dealing with people we don't know. Why would interacting on Twitter be any different? It could well be the author doesn't want representation and that's cool. Not every writer does, but they'd do well to remember how we present ourselves in the flesh is how we should present ourselves online.
Otherwise, you're just being an arsehole. And nobody likes an arsehole.
March 6, 2014
Yep. It's time for another interview
I tell you. You wait months for one interview and then a load all come at once. Head this way to read an interview I did with the very nice Nicky Peacock. Comments, as always, welcome.
Yep. It's time another interview
I tell you. You wait months for one interview and then a load all come at once. Head this way to read an interview I did with the very nice Nicky Peacock. Comments, as always, welcome.
February 26, 2014
Interview with Gary McMahon
I've been a massive fan of Gary McMahon for a couple of years so getting the chance to interview him is about as cool as it gets around here. If you haven't read his books before, well, then I pity you, fool. Read this, then read his stuff.
LW: For the benefit of people who might not have read your stuff, can you give us a bit of background to who you are? How did you get started with writing and publishing?
GM: I’m the author of several novels, including Pretty Little Dead Things and The Concrete Grove, and my short fiction has been reprinted in various “Year’s Best” anthologies. I’ve always written, ever since I can remember. It’s just what I do. I can’t stop myself. I got into publishing via the small press magazines of the late 1990s. After selling a couple of stories to these markets, I then stopped writing to concentrate on living. When I finally came back to writing, the landscape had changed. Luckily I met a man called Gary Fry who convinced me that I had something to say. He also encouraged me to start submitting my work again, and leading on directly from that I started to get published.
LW: You write horror that’s more than the standard tropes and your characters are occasionally flawed and damaged. Are both those issues deliberate choices?
GM: Deliberate, yes, but I don’t think we necessarily get to choose what – or who – we write about. I simply find flawed and damaged characters more interesting than those who are not. Someone once said that happiness writes white on the page, and that’s kind of how it is for me. I can empathise with flawed characters because I think we’re all flawed – I know I am. For a lot of people life is combative; it’s one battle after another. Those are the people I want to write about. The people with real-world problems: troubled souls who are then touched by the supernatural just to make things even worse.
LW: I’ve noticed setting and location plays an important role in your fiction – particularly in stuff like The Concrete Grove trilogy. You’re not afraid to get down into the less pleasant parts of Britain and make those locations into one of the characters. Do you have a goal in mind when you do that or are you going with the ‘write what you know’ idea?
GM: I generally write about the geography that I know. When I lived in London, I wrote a lot of stories set in that city. I now live in Yorkshire, so most of my recent stuff is set here. I’m originally from the northeast of England, so I also tend to set a lot of my stuff there. It makes the research easier. I don’t have to travel far to write a story about that place – I already know it, or it’s on my doorstep.
LW: With writing horror set in the real world (rather than a fantastical setting), do you find people expect it to be more cynical and pessimistic rather than the good guys win and everything’s fine at the end?
GM: I’m not sure what people expect – I’m not good with judging other people’s expectations of my own work. A lot of folk seem to focus on the bleakness in my writing, and I think that’s kind of missing the point of what I’m trying to do. Yes, there is bleakness, but there’s also a lot of hope. It’s just that the hope is fought for and most victories are pyrrhic. I don’t like grimness for grimness sake, but I can’t tack on a happy ending to sweeten the pill. I just try to get to the truth of the characters and their situations, and that usually involves a lot of darkness before there’s even the briefest glimpse of the light. I also believe that a writer should find his own voice and then spend the rest of his or her life trying to perfect it. My work might not be perfect, or to everyone’s taste, but my voice is my own. I’m fucking proud of that.
LW: Are there particular books of yours you’d advise people new to you to read first or should they just get stuck in?
GM: Just get stuck in. I think I have enough books out there that people interested enough in the genre will find something to interest them. If not, then my work probably isn’t for them. I do think my novels get better with each one, though, so maybe pick up the newest one first.
LW: What’s your average writing session like? Do you have set times for it?
GM: I used to sit down and write every night, after work and family commitments, from 8pm until about 1am, or 2am in the morning, but that intense schedule put me in hospital twice. These days I don’t feel guilty about not writing for a day, a week, even a month. Because when I’m not sitting down at the computer, I’m writing in my head. It’s all part of the process. It took me a long time to realise that. Too long, in fact.
LW: Spinning off that, do you have an average day/weekend off writing where you do real life stuff?
GM: As a rule, I don’t tend to write much at weekends. I save that time for family, for doing stuff, for having a life. At one time I let the writing push everything else out of the way. That didn’t really get me anywhere, so now I don’t let it happen. Writing is important to me, but so is a lot of other stuff. There’s room for it all.
LW: I read a blog post of yours in which you mentioned not enjoying writing itself, but having written is more your thing. Has that always been the case?
GM: I’ve always found writing very difficult, but recently it’s shifted over into being torturous. That’s the only word I can think of to do the feeling justice. I don’t write for fun – I do other things for that – but I can’t not write. I’d give up if I could, but that’s impossible. Writing is a compulsion for me. It’s a form of therapy. I know that sounds as if I’m up my own arse, but at this point in my life I’m beyond caring about what other people think about me. I write for myself, not for some imaginary audience. My relationship with the craft, the art, of writing is incredibly complex. So much that even I don’t understand it.
LW: Writing is obviously a solitary activity. How important do you think it is for a writer to have a life and support outside of making stuff up?
GM: I couldn’t write without the life experiences I’ve had to give me creative fuel. I believe that a writer should live, make mistakes, get into stupid situations…and then write about it all. That’s what I’ve always done. I mine my own life for stories.
LW: Can you sum your fiction up in one sentence?
GM: My stories are usually about broken people and I like to explore the area where the quotidian meets the weird.
Thanks to Gary for taking the time to answer my questions. You can read more about him on his site and check out his books here.
LW: For the benefit of people who might not have read your stuff, can you give us a bit of background to who you are? How did you get started with writing and publishing?
GM: I’m the author of several novels, including Pretty Little Dead Things and The Concrete Grove, and my short fiction has been reprinted in various “Year’s Best” anthologies. I’ve always written, ever since I can remember. It’s just what I do. I can’t stop myself. I got into publishing via the small press magazines of the late 1990s. After selling a couple of stories to these markets, I then stopped writing to concentrate on living. When I finally came back to writing, the landscape had changed. Luckily I met a man called Gary Fry who convinced me that I had something to say. He also encouraged me to start submitting my work again, and leading on directly from that I started to get published.
LW: You write horror that’s more than the standard tropes and your characters are occasionally flawed and damaged. Are both those issues deliberate choices?
GM: Deliberate, yes, but I don’t think we necessarily get to choose what – or who – we write about. I simply find flawed and damaged characters more interesting than those who are not. Someone once said that happiness writes white on the page, and that’s kind of how it is for me. I can empathise with flawed characters because I think we’re all flawed – I know I am. For a lot of people life is combative; it’s one battle after another. Those are the people I want to write about. The people with real-world problems: troubled souls who are then touched by the supernatural just to make things even worse.
LW: I’ve noticed setting and location plays an important role in your fiction – particularly in stuff like The Concrete Grove trilogy. You’re not afraid to get down into the less pleasant parts of Britain and make those locations into one of the characters. Do you have a goal in mind when you do that or are you going with the ‘write what you know’ idea?
GM: I generally write about the geography that I know. When I lived in London, I wrote a lot of stories set in that city. I now live in Yorkshire, so most of my recent stuff is set here. I’m originally from the northeast of England, so I also tend to set a lot of my stuff there. It makes the research easier. I don’t have to travel far to write a story about that place – I already know it, or it’s on my doorstep.
LW: With writing horror set in the real world (rather than a fantastical setting), do you find people expect it to be more cynical and pessimistic rather than the good guys win and everything’s fine at the end?
GM: I’m not sure what people expect – I’m not good with judging other people’s expectations of my own work. A lot of folk seem to focus on the bleakness in my writing, and I think that’s kind of missing the point of what I’m trying to do. Yes, there is bleakness, but there’s also a lot of hope. It’s just that the hope is fought for and most victories are pyrrhic. I don’t like grimness for grimness sake, but I can’t tack on a happy ending to sweeten the pill. I just try to get to the truth of the characters and their situations, and that usually involves a lot of darkness before there’s even the briefest glimpse of the light. I also believe that a writer should find his own voice and then spend the rest of his or her life trying to perfect it. My work might not be perfect, or to everyone’s taste, but my voice is my own. I’m fucking proud of that.LW: Are there particular books of yours you’d advise people new to you to read first or should they just get stuck in?
GM: Just get stuck in. I think I have enough books out there that people interested enough in the genre will find something to interest them. If not, then my work probably isn’t for them. I do think my novels get better with each one, though, so maybe pick up the newest one first.
LW: What’s your average writing session like? Do you have set times for it?
GM: I used to sit down and write every night, after work and family commitments, from 8pm until about 1am, or 2am in the morning, but that intense schedule put me in hospital twice. These days I don’t feel guilty about not writing for a day, a week, even a month. Because when I’m not sitting down at the computer, I’m writing in my head. It’s all part of the process. It took me a long time to realise that. Too long, in fact.
LW: Spinning off that, do you have an average day/weekend off writing where you do real life stuff?
GM: As a rule, I don’t tend to write much at weekends. I save that time for family, for doing stuff, for having a life. At one time I let the writing push everything else out of the way. That didn’t really get me anywhere, so now I don’t let it happen. Writing is important to me, but so is a lot of other stuff. There’s room for it all.
LW: I read a blog post of yours in which you mentioned not enjoying writing itself, but having written is more your thing. Has that always been the case?
GM: I’ve always found writing very difficult, but recently it’s shifted over into being torturous. That’s the only word I can think of to do the feeling justice. I don’t write for fun – I do other things for that – but I can’t not write. I’d give up if I could, but that’s impossible. Writing is a compulsion for me. It’s a form of therapy. I know that sounds as if I’m up my own arse, but at this point in my life I’m beyond caring about what other people think about me. I write for myself, not for some imaginary audience. My relationship with the craft, the art, of writing is incredibly complex. So much that even I don’t understand it.LW: Writing is obviously a solitary activity. How important do you think it is for a writer to have a life and support outside of making stuff up?
GM: I couldn’t write without the life experiences I’ve had to give me creative fuel. I believe that a writer should live, make mistakes, get into stupid situations…and then write about it all. That’s what I’ve always done. I mine my own life for stories.
LW: Can you sum your fiction up in one sentence?
GM: My stories are usually about broken people and I like to explore the area where the quotidian meets the weird.
Thanks to Gary for taking the time to answer my questions. You can read more about him on his site and check out his books here.
February 24, 2014
Dark glasses make anyone look cool, or a new interview
It's been a while since I've done an interview so here's one with the Ginger Nuts of Horror. As always, I hope you like it and comments welcome here or there. And while you're at it, check out the rest of Jim's interviews and site. A lot of good stuff over there.
February 21, 2014
Time Gentlemen, Please now available
February 16, 2014
Free fiction - Her Hair In My Hands
Her Hair In My HandsLuke Walker
Dad was right down the end of the garden near the shed. The closest we had to a weapon was a couple of spades so Dad said we had to have them in the house. Helen, my step-mum, didn’t want him to go outside, but he wasn’t having that. Told me to keep my eyes open while he went outside. He grabbed one of the spades, and the guy who was around the back of the shed, he came lumbering out. I shouted at Dad and he managed to get the spade up, but not fast enough. The man bit him on the hand. Dad screamed. I’d never heard him scream before. He sounded like a woman. I got halfway across the grass before I stopped running. The guy, he looked at me. He had Dad’s blood around his mouth and he looked at me even though he was missing an eye.Dad hit him with the spade and the guy dropped. Dad hit him again and his head caved in. Dad kept hitting him until the guy’s head was just a pile of shit on the grass. I wanted to go back into the house. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I didn’t do anything, though. Just stood there, looking at all the blood on Dad’s hand and how the drops of it flew off his fingers to the dry grass. And you know what I thought of right then? I thought of Abi and how my hands felt when I played with her hair. How much she liked me doing that and how much I liked it while pretending I wasn’t fussed about it.Dad stopped hitting the guy when we heard more of them from the street. Lots by the sounds. “Come on,” he said and grabbed me with his other hand. He kept the bitten one right by his side like that meant I couldn’t see it. I’d never seen his face as white as it was then.“Dad –”“Come on.”We sprinted back into the house. He slammed the door shut, locked it and tied a tea towel around his hand. I hadn’t realised I was sweating so much even though it wasn’t that hot outside.“Dad, you’re hurt.”“Don’t worry about it.”Blood soaked into Dad’s tea towel and pretending I couldn’t see it was easy.“Upstairs,” he said. We went, Dad at my back. “It’s us,” he shouted when we were halfway up. There was loads of shuffling and creaking in my parents’ bedroom as Helen moved stuff away from the door. I stood on the third step from the top, swaying a bit. Everything was going a funny colour. Sort of a mucky yellow. My head was too heavy and the rest of me felt like I was sinking in something warm and sticky. I was sinking with Abi beside me. Except that made no sense. She was in her parents’ pub a few miles away while Dad’s hand bled and I sank into warm yellow.“Lee?” He shook me and I tried to see through the yellow. Behind him, the bedroom door opened and Helen screamed just like Dad had screamed in the garden and I wanted to scream back at her.Dad shoved me forward and I fell. Something soft caught me. Helen’s hands. Then they were gone and I fell all the way to the carpet, dropping into the warmth. I hit the floor in front of their room. Pain bounced up from my arm. Hands gripped me. They dropped me on the bed and then Dad shook me, pulled me upright and bent my neck so my head tilted.“He’s okay,” he said. “Just fainted.”From faraway, I thought that was sort of cool. I’d never fainted before. “Keep your head like that, Lee, okay? You’ll be fine.”“Your hand, Pete. Your hand.”“It’s fine.”“You’ve been bitten,” she screamed and that smashed all the yellow into pieces. I tried to look at her, to tell her it wasn’t my fault, but my head and mouth wouldn’t work properly. Inside my head, I shouted at her to fuck off out of our house and it did no good. It never had.“It’s fine,” Dad said. “Just a scratch.”Something heavy landed on the bed beside me. It took me what felt like a long time to realise Dad had collapsed right next to me and that the warm stuff wetting my leg was his blood.
#
Dad left us a few hours later. By then, the bite on his hand had turned black and still wouldn’t stop bleeding. He’d managed to not to pass out again, but he couldn’t stand up for long. I didn’t say a word during those three hours. I’d seen enough on the news and online to know what was coming.Helen spent a long time screaming at him not to go but it didn’t work and she knew the same as me. He had to go. Either that or stay with us and die in the same room. Do that and we’d all be dead. So he made it to the bedroom door after telling me to move the furniture out of the way. She sat beside him, holding his uninjured hand and crying. They were both crying, I think. I didn’t look. Once the stuff was out of the way, Dad got to his feet and used the wall to support him to the door. He looked at me and I wanted to look back, but I just stared at his feet. Blood had dripped to his trainers. “It’ll be all right, Lee,” he said.“Yeah.”And then out of nowhere, I was crying like I hadn’t cried in years. Ever, maybe. It just sort of exploded out of me. Snot, tears, coughing. All of it. Dad held me and I cried all over his chest. The weird thing was how different that bit was to anything before. In the middle of the night, they’d talked about me while I guess they thought I was asleep. She said something strange, said it was like I’d been asleep since it started, like I’d gone somewhere and Dad said it was a lot to take in so I was probably in shock.There was no shock then. Just me crying like a kid and Dad holding me with one arm.“Keep your mum safe,” he whispered right in my ear and I walked back to the bed while they hugged and kissed and said I love you a lot and I didn’t have the energy to think clearly. All the while, Dad’s hand bled on the carpet and the sounds of the dead people outside on the street were loud enough to get through the closed window.Then Dad opened the door and was gone.He went downstairs; the stairs creaked a lot like we were in a haunted house. The back door opened, then shut. Even without opening my eyes, I could see him crossing our little patio and walking over the grass. Maybe he’d climb the fence into next door’s garden. Maybe he’d go around the side of the house to the front and the street. I didn’t know. I didn’t want to think about it. And I didn’t want to hear Helen when she said her last words to me.“It’s your fault.”
#
It got dark at about half eight. I’d only gone to the window once. Enough to see some of the street.They were down there. Dotted around. Some standing alone, some standing in groups of three or four like they were talking. Maybe they were. How could I know?Sometimes, I heard sirens and I hoped they were police cars. Could have been ambulances but I doubted it. If anyone was hurt, they were pretty much dead. No point going to hospital. I’d read the day before on Twitter that people were being shot if they turned up at a hospital with bites. Thinking that made me check my phone even though I knew there was no point. I hadn’t been able to get online since one in the morning. I had no idea what was going on beyond my street. We had a little radio in the bedroom, but it hadn’t done much since the night before. Just given us static. Straight opposite our house where our drive met the pavement, a woman stood facing the other way. She looked a bit like she was swaying, like there was music playing only she could hear. There was enough moonlight for me to see the blood all over her clothes. Even if I hadn’t seen that blood, she was still missing both hands. Her arms just ended in stumps. I wondered what her name was. I wondered where she’d lived and how long it had taken her to die.For no reason, I checked my phone again. Still nothing. Still no way of getting in touch with my mates or Abi. Three miles away and she might as well have been in another city.I went back to the bed and tried to sleep. And when I woke up, I wasn’t surprised to see my step-mum had left.
#
She’d only got halfway down the garden.I was in my bedroom which was at the back of our house. She was on the grass, facing what was left of the fence, and there was blood all around her. She lay in a big circle of it. It looked like someone had chucked red paint all over the grass.I wanted to want to cry. I wanted to want to bang on the window and shout at her, to swear at her for leaving me alone, for being stupid enough to go outside. I did none of that, though. To be honest, I didn’t feel anything seeing her body. As much as I wanted it to, nothing hit me. We’d never liked each other. Five years they’d been together and we’d never been close. She was dead and I was alive. That’s what everything came down to.My clothes smelled bad. I smelled bad. While I couldn’t shower, I could change my clothes. I dressed quickly, thinking. The closest I had to a weapon was Dad’s spade and maybe a big knife from the kitchen. We had a car, but taking it wasn’t a good idea. Dad had given me a couple of lessons last month, said he would pay for proper lessons when I was better at it, but I had no idea where the keys were. My bike wasn’t an option, either. A flat tyre I’d been meaning to fix for three weeks. Down in the kitchen, I grabbed a knife from the drawer, took Dad’s spade and stood close to the front door. My phone was in my pocket, silent. Nothing from Abi. Nothing from my mates. “Three miles,” I said to myself. Not too bad. Not something I’d walk normally, but what choice was there?“Abi,” I said and unlocked the door.Straightaway, I heard them. They don’t groan like in the films. They make a noise that’s almost a word. Beyond their word was a few people screaming on another street. Funnily enough, that made me feel better. If others were screaming, then the dead people were busy with them and might leave me alone. I closed the door and jogged to the pavement. The air was full of screams and shouts and what sounded like a lot of cars. I ran on. A few of them followed me; I kept ahead of them, turned the corner and swore. A couple of cars blocked the road and both pavements were pretty much full of the dead people. They all headed towards me, hands out, blood on their mouths and faces and their wounds. I ran the other way. They lurched out of my street, coming straight at me. I ran faster, looking ahead, not at the broken windows or the bits of people left on the pavements. I ran for the main road to the centre of town, ran through the traffic jam and ran for a cycleway on the other side. I made sure I kept looking ahead, not at the people in their cars or what was left of them. I kept going up the cycleway, passing all the nice, new houses with their big cars and reached the foot of a bridge. And then out of nowhere like it had with Dad, I started crying. Standing close to the bridge with the woods on one side and the long cycleway heading towards town and my girlfriend, I cried hard. Everyone was dead. Everyone I knew was either dead or dead but still walking around, looking to eat and eat and saying something that almost sounded like a word.One of them walked over the bridge, saw me and came closer. He had a massive hole in his stomach. I could see right through him, see all the red of his insides.Something – I can’t even guess what – exploded. Could have been a house or a row of houses. Fire and smoke rose from the other side of the bridge, enough fire for me to feel the heat.The dead man coming towards me kept coming. He might as well have not heard anything.Still crying, I ran.
#
The boy is a running machine, two pistons pounding over the grass and concrete. He stares straight ahead as he screams at himself not to look to his sides. All the same, he knows what surrounds him. The barrage of screams, the steady throb of the groans and the murmur always with him that could be a word if he listens to it too much. All of it is with him no matter how fast he runs. The cycleway he’s on reaches a junction further ahead. Blood spatters on the ground and as he draws nearer, it runs in thin streams towards bone dry earth below the bushes. Those bushes tremble and a shriek pierces the thick greenery. Still, he can’t stop. He’s a machine and he’s unstoppable.“Please.”A word said over and over in that shriek as whoever’s in the bushes begs for help.He reaches the junction and his trainers slap down on the blood. And as much as he begs himself to keep looking ahead, he looks down and to the side in time to see the man part the green and scream his plea again while the twisted shape beside him eats into his face. The boy runs on. Screams follow. He leaves the path to sprint over grass and cut between houses. He’s come out to an area he knows. Thorpe Park. Two of his friends, Chris and Sam, live here and the thought of them now makes him want to collapse and cry. Instead, he runs out to the road and has to stop, exhausted. Fire eats most of the houses. Cars are all over the place. A few have mounted the kerb of the large square of grass and crashed on it. And all around him, screaming people, running people, dying people. Dead people. A woman lurches towards him, trying to make a sound. The white of her blouse is lost behind streaks of fresh and drying blood. Something stringy hangs from the corner of her mouth. As she draws closer, she sucks it up. The boy’s stomach does a slow roll. He backs away and registers the abrupt cry at the same time as the weight hits his back.He’s walked into a dead man eating a little girl. She had time for one cry before teeth silenced her. The dead man is turning towards him, more of his profile visible with each terrible second, more of the caved in chunk of his skull revealing itself. Howling, the boy shoves the dead man to the ground. The body of the little girl spills in front of him. Her hand twitches. The boy runs from the man, the advancing woman and the twitching girl. He dashes past flaming houses and running people, nobody stopping to help anyone else. Across the square, across to another pavement, and there’s time enough in all the noise and sweat to swear at himself for coming this way.He’s right outside Chris’ house. There’s the bedroom window he’s looked out of on Saturday nights and weekday lunchtimes, and there’s the side path to the rear of the house where he and friends used to smoke until that day they all quit together, making a pact to stop while the August afternoon ticked by and the school year was still ages away.Sobbing, the boy staggers up the pathway towards the front door, pretending he and his friends are still down that side pathway. There’s nobody there. Nobody but the shadow crossing the grass, the paving slabs, and the weak groans following the shadow. The boy backs up, terror freezing all thought. The figure staggers into view, sees the boy and lets another groan loose.It’s the boy’s friend. Chris. Chris reaches the corner of the house and pulls his hands from his stomach, revealing the ghastly wound spilling blood and flesh down to the nice paving slabs. Chris opens his mouth and looks as if he’s vomiting blood. It drops almost in a ball and splats at his feet. He’s gesturing to his mouth, groaning, and the boy understands. Chris has no tongue.Another figure emerges from the side of the house. Sam. The boy tries to scream a warning to his friend and can only manage a tired sigh. Sam grabs Chris and they fall to the grass. Screaming, the boy runs forward, spade swinging. He brings it down on Sam’s head. Sam rolls off Chris, flesh stretching from his mouth to Chris’ neck. Lifting his head, Sam gazes at the boy, mouth falling open and that noise that almost sounds like a word is rising, rising.Chris’ hand slaps on the boy’s trainer and Chris breathes for the last time. Sam staggers upright. The boy runs again, crying again, aiming for Thorpe Road with one thought living alone in his head.Abi.
#
And now here I am.With Abi.I don’t want to think about outside, about the dead people I saw, about the people who screamed at me for help. Or about Sam and Chris. They don’t matter just like my house and my parents don’t matter or like all the crashed cars and fires and everything I ran through to get here.Or Abi’s mum in the corner. My spade is sticking out of her head and that doesn’t matter either. This is what matters.Abi.Me. The people outside, banging on the door. The people all trying to say a word. They want something from me or they want to give me something. That word they’re trying to say.I’m looking at Abi tied to a beer barrel and I’m thinking.I don’t feel much of anything but I know I will again. It’ll hurt. I know that. The woman I saw from the bedroom. The woman without any hands. She lost both. Losing one wouldn’t be the end of the world. And it would mean me and Abi would be together. A lot of her hair has fallen over her face but I can see her eyes with her torch and I can see how open her mouth is. Like she’s ready.Say it takes her a couple of minutes to do her bit. Then maybe an hour for the infection or whatever it is to work. I’ll need to time it right. I’ll need to unlock the door so we can get out of here and do that before I’m too slow and stupid to move. Otherwise, we’ll just be two of them stuck in this cellar. I shuffle closer to Abi and she watches me. There’s a lot of red on her teeth. My hand is shaking too much. I’ll have to keep it steady to help her. Like she wants to help me. Because that’s what they’re all saying. Or trying to.Okay. It’ll be all right. Dad said so.I slide next to Abi, put my arm around her and she’s snuffling the air in front of her. She wants my help. I know that. And that’s okay because I love her and she loves me. Abi.I’m thinking again about the feel of her hair in my hands. I keep my eyes on the cellar door and I keep my hand in front of her mouth and I wait.
