Emma Newman's Blog, page 16

When just write is not enough

Last year I met three different people at conventions who had written somewhere between 10 – 30,000 words of their first novel and stalled. Each of them enthused at me about the idea, each of them asked me how to write more.

At the Sci-Fi Weekender in March a man directed a question to the panel I was on which turned into a short fret about how he’d been writing the same short story for ten years and still hadn’t finished.

A little while ago I got a message through my website from someone who’d given up their job to work on a novel, researched for seven months, wrote eight pages, then took another job that came up.

I’ve seen tweets along these lines fly by and I’ve overheard conversations at conventions and geek-meets saying the same kinds of things.

It’s often accompanied by desperation, a hungry search for the solution that all these published writers must have found and just won’t share.

I used to feel that way. When I was desperate to write a book – hell, to write anything creative let alone a novel – I imagined that there was some kind of secret, some special thing they knew in their special club. Something I wanted so badly it hurt.

“Just write.”

That’s what is said time and time again. Interviewer: “You’ve written ten novels. People like them. What’s the secret, Bob?” Author Bob: “Just write. Arse, in chair, write.”

I’ve read this and nodded in agreement. Yep. I’ve written six novels now and about ninety short stories. The only way to do that was sit down and write. Obviously.

No. Not obviously.

I think it’s easy to forget what else has to happen for that book to be written, something I don’t see a lot of writers talking about in the same breath as stating “Just Write”. When you’re struggling, when you’re trapped in procrastinating behaviours and feeling utterly wretched about the book not coming out onto the page, when you hate yourself for playing another level of a game instead of writing, when you stand inside a book shop and burn with the need to have the book in your head on those shelves instead, being told to sit down and write means nothing!

It’s like someone telling me to stop worrying when I’m trapped in an anxiety spiral. It’s utterly useless. I’m in another state, trapped in thought processes which make the prospect of stopping worrying ridiculously out of reach.

So, what else has to happen?

Those people I met, the man I got the message from, the countless people out there either unable to start or getting stuck a few thousand words in, are all (I believe) suffering from the same problem:

Fear.

I think that’s what really stops someone from just sitting down and writing. I’m not saying you have to be without fear to write – hell, I’d never have written anything if that was the case! The key is to understand that fear and work out how to write despite it. That took me a long time. I remain anxiety ridden and gently terrified of everything, but at least I can write through it. Most days. Sometimes the demons are stronger than I am and writing is impossible. Then I have to go back to the basics, and that’s what I’m going to talk about here.

Before I go any further, here is a disclaimer: I am not an expert. I can only talk about what I have experienced. I hope it helps you, but we’re all special snowflakes and you might have other issues and needs than I can address here.

Step the first: Acknowledging the fear

Fear is an insidious little bastard. It hides behind things, it tricks us into thinking things are important when they’re not, it makes us believe things about ourselves, our world and other people that are complete bobbins.

Fear can even let you feel – perhaps even be – productive, whilst all along stopping you from progressing. I’m thinking about the chap who researched for seven months and didn’t write the book. I could be completely wrong, but I suspect that researching felt good. It was necessary, no doubt, but all that time, with no job to get in the way and no substantial progress made on the novel? That makes me think fear got in the way.

I suspect fear is behind this because I do it myself. I get caught up in researching details (my catnip is researching locations) and if I don’t take care, that can eat a whole day without the scene being written.

You see, researching is feeding the bit of the brain that’s excited about the story. In our mental sandpit which is safe and full of toys, we can lovingly absorb all those shiny details and embellish that embryonic story idea without sullying it with the clumsy written word. That’s why the fear wants to keep us happily researching and building in our minds: to protect us from the horror of imperfection.

I’ll come back to that idea – for now, I want to say that if you’re repeatedly procrastinating, if you’re constantly giving up on books and starting new ones, if you’re researching for months on end and not actually writing the book, you need to acknowledge that you are afraid and that fear is keeping you trapped in that behaviour.

Step the second: Hunt down the roots of that fear

You could skip this bit out. I think I managed to make progress in the early days without necessarily understanding where all the fear was coming from. However, I do think it’s a good thing to try and figure out, if only to be better at the next stage.

I’m not talking about getting a therapist. I am talking about a bit of navel gazing. The book “The Artist’s Way” helped me an awful lot, but does require commitment to be effective.

Possible roots, off the top of my head, can vary from being ridiculed for any signs of creativity, receiving poor criticism of early work, perfectionism (I really will get to that one soon, I promise) and a dozen other types of damage acquired over the years. It all gets tangled up in self-esteem issues, lack of confidence, lack of self-belief and all kinds of other malarkey too, which really doesn’t help.

It may not seem important to dig about in our memory and remember our first ever English teacher crossing out a lovingly crafted story with red pen, but it can help later. Trust me.

Step the third: Negotiate with the fear

So you can do this in a number of ways. I am quite insane, so I talk to it, but if that’s not your style, that’s cool too.

The thing to remember is that, deep down, fear serves one purpose:

The Fear is always trying to protect you.

If you can work out what it’s trying to protect you from, the negotiations can be much more successful. If you’re afraid that people might read it and say horrible things about it, then you can challenge that by saying that some people will hate it, but that won’t kill you. And some people might like it.

If that doesn’t work, you can say, “Okay fear, right now I’m writing a first draft. I promise that no-one else in the world will read it, because it will suck so much, it’ll leave angry red marks. Okay? Now back off and stop making me think I need to check Facebook again.”

The reason childhood hurts can still have so much power over us is that we were children when we suffered them and so couldn’t apply adult understanding and perspective. We may still be terrified of the red pen experience, deep down. If we go back and think it through as an adult, that hurt can be reframed and lose its power.

Step the fourth: Keep reminding yourself that writing the book is not anything else

If you sit down to write the immediate result is not going to be:

People hating you

People noticing you

Validation for all of the years of being a bit weird

The solution to all of your financial problems

A sure way to get laid

So much success you have to hide from the paparazzi

A way to stick one in the eye of your English teacher/ mother/ sibling / [insert other person who has ever doubted your ability or ridiculed you]

The completion of a masterpiece

All it ever can be is:

Writing one word after another until there are sentences, then paragraphs, then maybe, eventually, a first draft.

I’m thinking again about the man who wrote in, who quit his job to write a book because he had an idea that seemed good. It might have been the best idea for a book in the world. That’s irrelevant. The thing is, as soon as he gave up his job to focus on it, that book had a whole heap of additional significance associated with it. His spouse probably wondered how it was going and I would hazard a guess that he felt pressure to show something coming of it. Writing that book was no longer putting stuff onto a page. It was something that ultimately had to justify a change in lifestyle, a reduction in income, evidence of hard work and maybe a whole tangled mess of a statement about success and all that other awful stuff that we humans get all screwed up about.

Step the fifth: Make peace with the fact that what you write will suck

That first draft will be shit. In fact, the first 250,000 words or so that you write with any kind of effort are likely to be shit. Sorry. That’s the way it is.

Knowing this helps to combat that perfectionism thing – yes, I have finally got to it.

Perfectionism is the Fear’s favourite coat. When we have *that* idea, the one that makes us desperate to write, it is perfect in our minds. Then there’s the awful moment when you try to make a narrative, when you try to write down a world that brings other people in to share it with you.

You have to let go of the idea that you can create something as perfect as that in your mind. You might get close, but in the process of really writing a book it will evolve and mutate and that’s okay.

Really, it’s all going to be okay.

Step the sixth: Acknowledge that this is hard, but ultimately you have to step up

When we hear authors say “Just write!” it sounds so easy. The weird thing is, it is. But only when you’ve got enough understanding of your own fears that you can get out of your own way. Be gentle with yourself when you ask what you are scared of, but be firm and truthful too. Cut yourself some slack and create imperfectly. But at the end of the day you do just have to stick two fingers up at the Fear and just write anyway. That’s what I do. I hope this helps you to do the same.

Anxiety and the radio

In just under two hours I’ll be on Ujima radio in Bristol. You can listen along at the top of the page here: http://www.ujimaradio.com/ from 12 – 12:30 and then I think I’m on again at 13:15 for quarter of an hour.

I’m getting incredibly anxious. Will I be able to park in the scary multi-storey? Will I find the radio station? Will I be able to say anything other than “Err… ummm…” or even speak at all? Will I have a sudden need to vomit just as the slot starts? Will I blank? Will I-

You get the idea.

This, my lovelies, is the nature of anxiety as a disorder. It is not rational. It is all consuming. It does not care that I’ve been to conventions and sat on panels and been absolutely fine. It rejects the evidence that I will probably be okay – even a previous appearance on radio is disregarded.

Anxiety is not logical. It can always find a reason to keep me scared. That’s its job, after all. Right now, it’s trying to freak me out to the point that I am actually incapable of leaving the house. It wants that, because if I stay at home, I will be safe. All of the possible things that could go wrong at the radio station will be rendered impossible.

I made a decision, some time ago now, that I wanted to be a successful author more than anything else in my professional life. That meant I had to consciously decide that no matter how bloody terrified I get, I have to push through.

I was chatting to a lovely chap called Marcus at Eastercon about this. He couldn’t understand why I could get so freaked out before any kind of panel / appearance and then seem to be fine.

There’s a couple of reasons. 1) the anticipation is a zillion times worse than when the trigger actually starts. The only exception to this I’ve found so far is Ready, Steady, Flash. 2) I seem fine, but underneath I am still terrified. I just don’t show it when I’m “on”. Or at least, I try not to. If people look closely they see how much I’m shaking. When friends hug me afterwards they often comment on how violently I’m shaking afterwards too!

But there’s another thing too: my anxiety is not me. As time goes on, I’m realising more and more that it’s just this horrible thing that swamps me, but it’s not the bits of me that gets excited and waves hands around when trying to explain what’s so cool about GMing, it’s not the bit of me that writes books and stories, it’s not the bit of me that likes to make people laugh and it’s not the bit of me that just wants to meet and get to know other lovely geeky people who love the same stuff as me.

And because of that, I’m trying damn hard not to let the anxiety get in the way. But that means that I will shake, I will squeak for help, I will have to stand by myself in a corner sometimes, freaking the fuck out, and I’m sorry if that’s annoying. It’s because it’s hard.

Really, really hard.

But it’s not impossible.

That was the Eastercon that was…

…utterly brilliant.

Before I get into what happened in Bradford this weekend, I want to offer very public and very loud thanks to the Eightsquared con committee. You did an absolutely fantastic job and you deserve the sleep of the just I hope you’re enjoying now.

The convention was so well organised. There were no last minute panics (that I saw or experienced anyway), the panels were kept under excellent time control so there wasn’t any over-running. Everyone was friendly, helpful and knew exactly who to ask if they couldn’t answer a question personally. There was no drama, no controversy and the atmosphere was warm, inclusive and deliciously geeky. Also, the hotel staff were exemplary in their friendliness and lack of raised eyebrows.

There are two things that stand out in particular for me: the quiet room and the Zulu Tradition performance on Friday night.

Whoever thought of the quiet room deserves an award. It kept me sane on the Sunday afternoon when I was recovering from the adrenalin overload caused by the Ready, Steady Flash panel (more on that in a mo). Having a space in which the social rule was to be quiet and not be expected to engage in conversation was a godsend for introverts – especially ones not staying in the con hotel. Please can we have them at *all* conventions?

The performance by Zulu Tradition was spectacularly enjoyable and something so refreshing and unexpected at an SFF con. I enjoyed the music and dancing so much – if you get the chance to see them perform, do it!

Two other highlights

Having the very marvellous Gareth Powell ride shotgun with me and stopping me from going insane when the motorway we were on was closed so the journey took a total of 9 hours instead of 4.

Between Two Thorns sold out! And people came and asked me to sign my book throughout the weekend! All the exclamation marks! But seriously, what an extraordinarily wonderful feeling of complete bliss each and every time that happened.

What I got up to

I was on three panels, did a reading and played in Ready, Steady Flash. As people have been asking me for the stories, I’ll focus on the latter for now.

What is Ready, Steady Flash anyway?

There were four players and Lee Harris, who ran it all and entertains the audience whilst we wrote. He gave us a prompt then we had five minutes to write a flash story, then we had to read our work out to the audience. This happened four times and the winner of each round was determined by how loudly the audience clapped and cheered for each person after the stories for that round had been read out. I was competing against Paul Cornell, Roz Kaveney and Cory Doctorow.

No pressure!

I was so anxious in the fifteen minutes before it started that I had to go and stand by the window in the Green Room and pretend to look out at the snow so I didn’t vomit or just burst into hysterical tears. Then when we went up and I set up my tech, I couldn’t get the keyboard to work. It was just me, being a muppet, but my goodness, did I panic! By the time it all started I was shaking so much I often typed each letter twice. The stories are below, I cleaned up the typos but haven’t edited them in any other way.

Round 1

Prompt: “Murder at the Convention”

My story:

The only thing that was unconventional about it was the method. At first they thought it was a sword cane, judging by the wound, but the only man there with anything that could possibly be judged long and sharp enough was in the bar at the time. And his was made of latex.

The body lay in the centre of ballroom, a faint scent of absinthe in the air.

They searched through the ballroom, keeping the dancers inside, seeking the culprit under the sparkles of the glitter ball, removing possibilities until only one remained: it was He-Man or the baby dressed as the dragon.

The baby dragon had no teeth, and was judged innocent. As He-Man was dragged off, his best friend (dressed as Skeletor) laughing maniacally, the music resumed and the dancers pulled the policemen onto the dance floor. The murder victim got up, went to the bar and raised a glass. Police procedural urban fantasy, perhaps unconventional, but damn fun.

I didn’t have any idea what I was writing until I wrote the last line, which was a very strange experience. Much to my surprise – and huge relief – I won that round and got the single point I was desperate for so I could leave at the end with some dignity.

Round 2

Prompt: “TV 2050″

My story:

He wasn’t sure. It seemed like everyone else could see … more. The others stood around him, the strange bobble hanging over their left eye, the hush descended over the room. They were awestruck. He just wanted to go home and have a cup of tea.

The exec had that smile on his face. It said money, and tie in deals and fame and fortune and biscuits at every meeting. If they liked, it, if it took off, they’d be drinking champagne out of each other’s shoes.

Bastards.

It ended. The lights were switched back on. Everyone sighed, as if they’d been holding their breath. The only thing he’d been holding in was wind.

“So,” the exec oiled at him. “What do you think?”

The boss cooed and gushed. “Wonderful!” She looked at him. “Tim? What do you think?”

“I….”

“It’s only for a year. It won’t even hurt, you won’t know it’s there.”

“But my life isn’t -”

That’s sorted then. This it is people! TV 2050. We watch the books as they are written. Live!”

Bollocks, he thought. My brain doesn’t have a spellchecker.

The story became clear about three quarters of the way through – again, so strange to write without a sense of the story’s shape. Paul won that round, which made him very happy (and me for him) as he played last year and didn’t win a point.

Round 3

Prompt: “The Hidden Children”

My story:

The screaming was unbearable. They ran through the house, lifting anything not fixed down to look beneath it; the phone, chests of drawers, the dog.

“Where?” he shouted.

“I don’t know!” she wanted to punch him. If she knew, she’d have them, it would be over.

Then it came to her; the only place they could be. She ran into the kitchen and opened the washing machine. The boy was there, slightly damp, the girl was tucked under a pair of knickers.

“They’re here,” she said, almost weeping with relief. “Get in the car, put her in the seat.”

She retrieved the hidden children, wiped them, put the boy’s head on properly.

Locking the house, she could still hear her daughter’s tears. “It’s okay, I found them!”

It was a long drive. The children back in her daughter’s sticky hands. Silence. There was a god after all.

Urgh. That round, and the resulting story, was awful. My biggest fear before it started was that I would blank and that’s exactly what happened. I must have sat there for at least a minute, trying to come up with something, but when nothing really emerged – not even a first line – I just had to write the first drivel that came to mind. Roz and Cory both wrote very creepy flashes (Roz’s flash was the scariest thing I’ve ever heard, in fact) and the audience loved both equally, so they got a point each.

Drama! We each had a point by the final round, so whoever won the last round, won the game.

Round 4

Prompt: “The Sound of Snow Falling”

My story:

It was worth waiting for. He’d waited for six months! But the conditions were perfect, it was going to happen today.

He went outside at dawn and stood on the porch in his pyjamas. The sky was the perfect colour, something between battleship grey and the shade of regret.

It was silent. No birds sang, the wind was cold but not too cold. It was just warm enough.

Then he saw it. Looking like a grey dot against the clouds. Could it? Yes! Yes it was!

He watched it, on tiptoes – he’d waited so long!

The sound of snow falling was a whistling, then a whooshing, then a screaming and then a delicious thud. He’d calculated the trajectory perfectly. The Missile had hit the hero as she was flying back to her secret base.

He strode over to her broken form. “Snow?” he said, but there was only silence. He had won. And he hadn’t even had his breakfast yet.

This was the opposite experience to all previous rounds; fairly quickly I knew that snow was going to be a person, rather than the white stuff, and then the superhero thing emerged after I’d written the first few lines.

And, blow me down, it won!

Can you believe that? I won Ready, Steady Flash! [Snoopy dance]. Honestly, I never thought for a moment that I would – I just wanted to win my one dignity point and say that I survived.

It was a totally different experience to the other insanely terrifying thing I’ve done so far this year; Just a Minute at the Sci-Fi Weekender. I freaked out just as much before that one, but about ten minutes in I was enjoying it.

The stress just didn’t let up in the flash competition though. The only times I wasn’t on the brink of losing it was when I was reading my work aloud, as the audio book narrator bit of my brain took over then and I was focused on reading as well as I could.

But saying that, the feeling of winning was damn sweet! So I want to end with a huge thank you to the audience who cheered me on, gave me reassuring smiles and clapped loudest for my stories. You rock.

Where you can find me during Eastercon 2013

At an ungodly hour on Friday morning I will be setting off for Eastercon up in Bradford. Hooray! Here’s my schedule in case you’re going and want to come and find me:

Friday

6pm: Debut Authors (panel)

“New authors talk about starting out: how to get published, and what happens when you do.” Bella Pagan moderates Adrian Faulkner, Naomi Foyle, Francis Knight, Emma Newman and Stephanie Saulter.

Saturday

11am: The stories in games (panel)

“Narrative games require stories to work, whether they are tabletop RPGs, LARPs or computer game. How do these stories differ from those in books and films? And how do you fix them when the encounter the enemy (or “player”)?” Mike Cule moderates Ian McKenna, Emma Newman, Marcus Rowland and Adrian Tchaikovsky.

12 noon: Genre Get together – Fantasy

If you’d like to have a chat, and/or have a copy of Between Two Thorns that you’d like me to sign, this is a perfect opportunity

1pm: Reinventing Urban Fantasy (panel)

“There’s a lot more to urban fantasy than tattooed women hunting supernatural beings in the USA. Our panel explore the boundaries of the genre, and its metaphors.”

Sunday

12 noon: Ready, Steady, Flash!

“Lee Harris challenges authors to produce short themed fiction to a very tight deadline, and then read it out. Paul Cornell, Cory Doctorow, Roz Kaveney and Emma Newman scribble, and Donna Scott entertains while they write.”

Oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God oh God!

(I’m very nervous about this – on a par with the nerves about Just A Minute at the Weekender.)

6pm: Reading (shared slot with Mike Shevdon)

And the rest of the time?

I’ll either be in the bar, watching other panels or hiding in my room, rocking back and forth slowly saying “Why did I say yes to being in Ready, Steady, Flash? Why? Why!”

But seriously, come and say hello!

Could we change the world?

Oh these are interesting times! I should be writing a post about what I’m doing at Eastercon and editing the third Split Worlds novel but last night I was seized by an idea that just won’t let me go. I slept on it and it’s still there this morning.

The idea in a nutshell: Creating a platform like Kickstarter for massive environmental projects* that have international scope and require funding that surpasses that which individual governments can / are prepared to commit.

*This is an example: Removing 7250000 tons of plastic from the worlds oceans

And here is the proposed project’s site: http://www.boyanslat.com/plastic4/

Even writing this now my pulse is racing and I’ve got that fluttery feeling behind my ribs. Let’s take a step back a second and look at what exists now.

Kickstarter – this has really started to break into the mainstream (in the online world – not mainstream as measured by breakfast television or old markers like that). I backed my first project (Nine Worlds) this year which made 232% of its original target. This made me happy. However, what’s even more exciting is that Kickstarter mobilised over 60,000 fans of Veronica Mars (a TV show) to pledge over $3 million to have a film made – and there are still 16 days to go at the time of writing this.

Holy crap.

Then there are two other things I’ve been involved in lately along similar lines – i.e. using social media to bring passionate people together to change things, hopefully for the better.

The first is Kiva, which I discovered last week through Laura Resnick on Facebook. This TED talk by the co-founder Jessica Jackley says everything you need to know about it brilliantly – if you have a few minutes spare I totally recommend you watch it right through to the end (very important) and have a tissue ready. I sobbed. I’m tearing up just thinking about it (but then I cry at everything. I mean, Toy Story 3, my God, I almost died of dehydration).

Basically this platform has enabled a worldwide network of micro-financing for people and communities too small and too poor to be served by banks. It is incredible. I made my first loan last week to this farming group in Cambodia and it has since been fully funded. At some point the money will be paid back (there’s always a risk it won’t, of course, but I am happy to take that risk with $25 in the hope it will make something wonderful happen for those people). Then I will reinvest in another project. If I sell a few more books, I’ll probably fund several at once.

The other thing I wanted to talk about is 38 degrees.  This is all about getting the British public to stop politicians doing things we hate (which seems like everything at the moment – dark times here indeed) in a very British way: signing petitions and writing emails to our MPs. The power of this is the sheer numbers, of course, but it’s also the fact that it makes expressing our concern (often outrage) so very easy – 38 Degrees removes barriers to low-level action. I got on board when they mobilised people to fight against government plans to sell off woodland that sorely needs protection. It worked.

Okay, so what have we got here?

Kickstarter is being used to fund primarily artistic ventures, but I’ve also seen it (and Indiegogo too) used for local community arts projects and things wider than one artist/creative group producing one product. Exciting.

Kiva is enabling micro-financing on a global scale. I mean, good grief, it’s just mind-blowing. It means that people like me, not well off at all but with everything I need, can help entrepreneurs all over the world that the banks ignore. We are cutting out the powerful middle man (who also played a massive role in the latest massive global economic meltdown) and helping people directly. Of course, these loans are managed and vetted by local groups – they have to be to join up all the dots and ensure the money is going where it should. What makes me so excited about it is that it feels like a genuine, positive force for change – and has been linked to better treatment of women too – but that’s another post.

38 Degrees is informing the public and getting them to act in a tiny, low effort way on such a huge scale that together it makes a loud voice.

Could a combination of these three be used to fund something even bigger?

That’s what keeps banging on the inside of my skull at the moment. Take that ocean clean-up idea. International waters, thousands of miles away for lots of people, but it’s an issue I believe many are concerned about. It’s also the kind of thing that governments are not likely to back. I’m sorry, but I have no faith whatsoever in one, let alone several, agreeing to properly fund any of the technology or make it easier to happen. Why?

1. Politicians have limited resources at their disposal. I have no idea what the real picture is, as it’s all obfuscated behind rhetoric, blaming previous governments, the economic crisis and countless other things, but there’s a lot of demand on a finite budget.

2. They are not prioritising the environment. Or space technology – imagine if we could crowdfund a proper space program back into existence!

3. Being voted in next time on a shorter time frame than many huge projects require means that politicians are looking for short-term high impact stuff to send to the newspapers. I’ve heard of schemes being trashed before any scientific data could be produced on their efficacy because “they had to be seen to be doing something”. Le sigh.

4. Big business has a direct line to government and the money to keep throwing persuasive lobbyists at them. I don’t think big business (oil companies, mass media corporations) have goals compatible with caring for the planet and finding a way to make life here better for everyone, rather than a miniscule percentage of people.

Is this a suggestion to replace or give up on taxation?

No. A very good friend (Hi Dom!) made an excellent point on Facebook this morning: “Kickstarter for environmental projects may be a good plan, but we should not on any level accept a failure of government to do this stuff. Charitable funding is no substitute for funding via taxation.”

I couldn’t agree more. However, for the reasons outlined above, I have no faith in the governments of the world ceasing to fail at this stuff within an acceptable time frame.

It’s also all about bypassing the mass media

Before Kickstarter, Kiva and 38 Degrees, before Twitter and Facebook and blogging and, okay, the Internet, a very small group of people controlled what information we were exposed to. A tiny amount of stuff reaches mainstream TV news and newspapers. The mass media seems far more interested in making us miserable so we buy more crap, rather than saying “Hey, there’s awful stuff going on in the world but these people are actually doing something. Want to get involved? What can we do together?”

I don’t feel that any of what mass media chucks out on a daily basis represents me.

I don’t give a crap about losing weight, getting older, whether men will find me attractive or how to cook sumptuous feasts whilst starving myself thin or what an endless parade of celebrities are doing with whom, which is what the marketing people think women of my age are obsessed with.

I do care an awful lot about this world in which we live – improving and safeguarding the state of the environment, fundamental human rights, giving everybody the chance to be safe, healthy and respected regardless of gender, race and sexual orientation – and I do believe that there are many, many thousands, if not millions of people who would love to do something to make that happen. We just don’t know how.

There’s the psychology behind these crowd-funding projects too…

When you back a project, you are actively supporting something, willing it to succeed and likely to tell friends in the hope they’ll get on board too. But more than that, it’s usually a finite, understandable, often physical or at least visual thing that you can fully grasp in a way that’s different to so many charitable campaigns that exist today. I think we could do so much more if we could identify key projects, like that ocean clean-up one, see it through being researched, built, working away and the results afterwards.

What now?

I don’t know how to make anything like this happen. I’m just an author and most things terrify me. There are dozens of flaws, potential pitfalls and it’s all far more complex than I present it here. I’d like to open a dialogue about it. I just want to feel that we are living in an age where people may be empowered by social media and use it as a force for fixing big problems, as well as somewhere to hang out with lovely people just as geeky and laugh at cats. Because that’s all great too.

What say you?

Clemency Slaughter and the Legacy of D’Eath

Last week I mentioned that Jonathan Green and Tom Brown have a cool project on Kickstarter (and both of their surnames are colours, which just makes me happy). We were chatting online and I offered to put up a guest post about it, so you guys could find out more if it intrigues you. Jonathan whizzed this over to me in record time, just as I was leaving for a long weekend in London.

D’oh. Anyway, I’m back and thought you might like to have a read whilst I run around like Chicken Licken, preparing for Eastercon and the zillion other things I need to do.

Over to you, Jonathan!

Clemency Slaughter and the Legacy of D’Eath is unlike anything I’ve ever written before.

First of all it’s not steampunk, or SF, or a Fighting Fantasy gamebook. In fact it has ended up inhabiting the same dark, gothic, nineteenth century world as Poe, Sleepy Hollow, and American Gothic. Secondly, it’s a poem. I don’t usually write poetry (apart from that Moshi Monster Christmas book that one time) and it’s certainly not something I’m known for. And thirdly, I wrote it in an afternoon, following a conversation on Facebook with the artist Tom Brown.

Tom and I had met at Weekend at the Asylum (Europe’s largest Steampunk convention, held annually in the city of Lincoln) and I was immediately blown away by his artwork. I knew, from that moment, that this was someone I wanted to work with – but on what?

Only a matter of days later, we were conversing via the medium of social media and an idea popped into my head, right then and there. I honestly have no idea where the idea came from. It just felt like a story that needed to be told, as if it had been waiting there, in the ether, like a thread drifting on the wind, until someone caught hold of that thread and pulled, teasing it out into a tale all of its own.

Two and a half hours later, the first draft of what was to become Clemency Slaughter and the Legacy of D’Eath was finished. (If only all my projects were done and dusted so quickly!) And now, several months later, we have a publisher on board – NewCon Press – and a Kickstarter up and running to fund production.

“But what is it?” I hear you ask.

Well, a nutshell, it’s a book, written by me (Jonathan Green) and fully illustrated by Tom Brown (the artist behind the Professor Elemental comic and the creator of Hopeless, Maine). At first it appears to be a children’s picture book, but in reality it is something much darker and more adult, as becomes apparent once you start to unravel the tale held within its stanzas. It tells the tale of Miss Clemency Slaughter, her ill-fated family, and the legacy of Lord Daedalus Drummond D’Eath that awaits whoever is lucky (or unlucky) enough to inherit after the old patriarch dies.

Children of all ages will enjoy the book’s mix of macabre humour and beautiful illustration, but Clemency Slaughter and the Legacy of D’Eath will only become a reality if YOU (and your friends) pledge your support via Kickstarter. We are offering all sorts of wonderful rewards to our benevolent backers, including the chance to be at the London launch (complete with champagne reception) or to own an original piece of Tom Brown’s stunning artwork for the book.

And that’s the wonder of Kickstarter; it allows truly unique projects – like Clemency Slaughter – to exist, in a world in which publishing appears to be dominated by the need to pigeonhole products. And I defy anyone to pigeonhole Clemency Slaughter and the Legacy of D’Eath.

You can find out more about the Clemency Slaughter Kickstarter project, and pledge your support, here:

http://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1412864360/clemency-slaughter-and-the-legacy-of-death

And on that note I’ll leave you. But just remember this, if you’re umming and ahhing about whether to splash your cash on the project: you can’t take it with you.

A little tease for a grey Friday

The Age Atomic, looking rather smashing

What better to blast away the cold, wet and grey that is this Friday than with a stupendously bright cover and the promise of something fabulous coming soon?

This beautiful book is the sequel to the rather splendid Empire State by Adam Christopher who is a very nice chap and one of the people I most look forward to spending time with when our paths cross at conventions.

If you’re wondering why his name is familiar (aside from the whole raft of stuff that the papers and internet write about him all the time, and deservedly so) he played a pivotal role in helping me find an unexpected home for Between Two Thorns. He’s even in the acknowledgements at the back of the book.

Here’s a teeny tiny teaser to get those synapses firing in anticipation of the release of The Age Atomic which is released by Angry Robot Books on April 4th.

A snippety jibbert from the Age Atomic

It’s like catching a glimpse of ankle in Victorian England… well, it is for me anyway. You can find links to all the other teasers here.

My lovelies, there’s a launch for The Age Atomic at Forbidden Planet, London on April 4th – details here. I would join you, but alas, I’ll be in hospital having wisdom teeth extracted. Damned inconvenient, I can tell you.

If you are also having minor oral surgery (what are the odds?) or otherwise engaged, you could always pre-order The Age Atomic.

Oh, and for what it’s worth, Adam is a damn fine writer. You heard it here last. xx

A postcard from the whirlwind

You know when you get an exotic postcard and the person who sent it is already home? That’s what this blog post is: a postcard all about the amazing things that have happened over the last two weeks and now seem kind of weird to talk about, but without the picture of the beach and palm trees. Where do I start?

The first picture of myself that hasn’t made me cringe

I didn’t think such a thing could exist, but it now officially does. As luck would have it, it’s the photo that’s in this month’s SFX magazine and there’s a rather lovely article on the page opposite about… me. How bizarre – and thoroughly exciting. The magazine is on sale right now (March 2013) in newsagents, lovely geeky places and supermarkets all over the UK and available as a digital download too, I believe.

This is what my husband did in response to some things people have said about it.

I’ve been reading SFX Magazine for years and to actually be one of the featured authors feels… amazing.

And then the day after that…

The day after that issue of SFX magazine was released on sale, the first of the Between Two Thorns launches took place at Forbidden Planet, Bristol.

Photo used with kind permission of Heike Harding-Reyland

Needless to say, I was nervous as hell. I worried that no-one would be there except my editor, Lee Harris (who was there for work, obviously), my best friend who was there to keep me sane, and some bloke escaping the rain who’d never read anything but the newspaper for the last decade.

Happily, I was wrong! There were lots and lots of people – a crowd no less! – and I was signing copies for the full hour. Forbidden Planet said it’s the best attended launch/signing they’ve ever had in Bristol, which is nice. And they gave me tea and jelly babies too – how lovely is that?

I saw old friends, I met new ones, I rubbed shoulders with the finest geeks of Bristol and Bath and it was brilliant. One of the lovely people I met there was a Mr Cavan Scott, who wrote this about the launch: http://cavanscott.com/2013/03/book-launch-emma-newmans-between-two-thorns/ He is also a fan of Upstairs, Downstairs so we’re destined to be friends.

Then the day after that…

Photo used with kind permission of Jeff Wooliscroft

It was the London Forbidden Planet launch. I thought I had reached the pinnacle of nerves at the Bristol launch but my body managed to find a whole new reservoir of adrenalin and gut-cramping terror for that event too.

Again, it was all just my own anxiety bobbinry, and the event was a great success, followed by champagne!

I was so touched to see so many people – at both events – and wanted to say thank you. Honestly, the fear of a launch filled with tumbleweeds is very real, very visceral and it means such a lot to see people smiling whilst you’re clutching a book you wrote yourself, trembling, as it’s launched into the big scary world.

Whilst I’m at it, I’d also like to thank everyone who has been sending me the best tweets and emails ever about how much they’ve enjoyed Between Two Thorns. I cannot express in these meagre words how much that means to me.

And then two days after that…

I was back in the recording studio, narrating “Any Other Name” which is the second novel in the Split Worlds series. You can get the audio book of Between Two Thorns on Audible, by the way. That’s all wrapped up now, so I’m editing the third book (“All Is Fair”), gearing up for Eastercon (more on that very soon) and also making preparations for two very exciting projects that I’m going to be really annoying about and not say anything more yet.

Sorry.

Some things that went up online during that time

Between Two Thorns was one of the Barnes & Noble science fiction and fantasy picks for March!

The penultimate and last of the year and a day of Split Worlds stories

My Favourite Bit of Between Two Thorns

The Big Idea behind it (or not, in fact)

10 questions about Between Two Thorns


I was on the Tangential Deviation podcast

But that’s enough about me!

During this crazy time, the fabulous Nine Worlds Geekfest had a more than successful Kickstarter campaign come to an end with 232% funded of their £10,000 goal. YAY! Will I see you there?

Adam Christopher’s sequel to Empire State is launching next month and there’s a book launch in London 

The very, very talented illustrator Tom Brown is teaming up with Jonathan Green for a grim Gothic Tale on Kickstarter

I’ve become addicted to Fallen London and I implore you to check it out because the writing is just too wonderful to miss.

Have you come across anything wonderful you’d like to share? If so, pop it in the comments below!

Shadowing – the penultimate Split Worlds story

Well, I have just finished all of the year and a day of stories set in the Split Worlds! I am relieved, glad I managed to do it and rather tired! The last one is being hosted by a rather special friend of mine tomorrow. That’s the day Between Two Thorns comes out in the UK – don’t forget that if you come to either the Bristol or London Forbidden Planet launches you’ll get an exclusive, signed, limited edition Split Worlds story just for you.

This is the fifty-third – and penultimate – tale. If you would like me to read it to you instead, you can listen here.  You can find links to all the other stories, and the new ones as they are released here. You can also sign up to get the stories delivered to your inbox, one per week for a year and a day.

This story follows on from The Necessary Witness parts one and two if you want to read those first.

Shadowing

The pub was quiet. Martin couldn’t decide if that was good or bad. There was a man sitting at the bar nursing a pint of lager and another in the corner, back to the wall, eyes on him as soon as he’d walked in. He was probably the one.

Martin bought a pint with no intention of drinking it and looked over at the man in the corner again. He was wearing a flat cap and thick coat.

Martin went over. “Are you waiting for me?”

“Depends. What’s your name?”

“You said no names.”

The man smiled. He looked like he was in his late fifties and didn’t get enough sleep. “You’re learning. Let’s keep this quick. You said you were interested in people who knew anything about stealing shadows. I’ll tell you one thing: you won’t find anyone in the Fortean Times.”

“Three other people got in touch from the ad,” Martin said as he sat down. “They were friendly enough but-”

“They know nothing,” the man hissed across the table. “I’ll tell you who steals shadows. I’ve been tracking these buggers for over twenty years. If you’re serious about this, you should know it’ll take over your life. I used to be married. Not anymore.”

Martin decided he’d have the pint after all. “It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s my brother-in-law. It happens to him every month. Has your shadow been stolen?”

“Worse than that. You ready for this?”

“Just tell me who they are.”

The man leaned across the table until Martin could smell his sweat. “Aliens,” he whispered.

“Oh for fu-”

“Listen to me!” The man grabbed Martin’s arm. “You’re in danger. You know enough to be asking questions but not enough to protect yourself. I do! I spent a year hiding inside a post-box once, watching one of the houses. That’s one of the safest ways. They’re scared of red things, so you don’t ever get spotted.”

“You think aliens are stealing my brother’s shadow every month?”

“Yes! For experiments. They steal teeth, eyelashes – sometimes they come and take your dreams whilst you’re sleeping. You need to get a mosquito net and cover it with foil. When you’re out and about-” he lifted the cap enough to reveal its tin foil lining “protect yourself like this. It’s a silent war and we’re the only-”

“I think I’ve heard enough.” Martin took three large gulps of the beer and stood up.

“I knew you couldn’t take it!” The man shouted at his back. “You’ll be dead in a year! Or worse – one of them!”

It was cold outside. Martin walked briskly towards the underground station and then went past it. He didn’t want to go home and sit in front of the telly. It was only a week until the next time Paul’s shadow would detach itself and go to that house in Pimlico again. He had to find the answers for himself; it was clear no-one else knew anything.

It was easy to find the house again. He didn’t want to knock on the door and confront anyone, not after overhearing how they made Paul forget everything, so he decided to wait at the corner of the street. He leaned against the iron railings of another garden and pretended to use his phone.

The light was on in a downstairs room but with the blind down he couldn’t see inside. From where he stood he’d be able to see whoever went down the steps to the basement and whoever came out. Maybe other shadows would turn up. Maybe he would see the people who lived there, if he waited long enough.

Then he saw a man in a car only a few feet away, watching the same house. He had to be there for the same reason. Martin stared at him just long enough for the man to notice, then put his phone away and knocked on the passenger side window.

The man inside wound the window down with the look of someone caught parking on double yellow lines.

“Do you know who lives in that house?” Martin asked.

“Yeah. Why?”

Martin hesitated. “Have the people who live there done something to you? Or… someone in your family? Something… weird?”

“Yeah,” the man replied. “You too?”

Martin looked up and down the street. “My brother-in-law. Can I get in? I don’t want anyone else to overhear.” The door was unlocked and Martin got in. “So did they take your shadow or someone else’s?”

“Take my… what?”

Martin squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit. I’m not crazy. Look, this is going to sound insane, but once a month my brother-in-law’s shadow… detaches itself and goes into the basement of that house and gets into a bowl.” He covered his face. “I don’t know how they do it. God, I sound like a lunatic but I swear it’s true.”

The man had paled. “I thought I imagined it. I think I saw it go into the house. Christ.” He drew in a breath. “No-one’s done anything to me. It’s my wife. She’s been going to see a therapist there, Dr Tate. I don’t know what that quack’s done to her, but she’s not herself. She’s all… broken.”

“A therapist?” Martin was appalled. “There’s a weird lab in the basement, did you know that? They did something to my brother, to make him forget. Maybe they took something from your wife and made her forget too.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I’ve been looking for other people who’ve seen something similar but it’s so hard to find people who aren’t nut-jobs, you know?”

The man laughed shakily. “Yeah, I bet. I hoped I’d find someone else who knew what was going on if I watched long enough.”

“And you ended up with me,” Martin tried to smile but the man just nodded.

“Tate’s completely brainwashed my wife. She’s made her think all her friends and family are holding her back and Tate’s the only one who understands.” He sighed. “I thought maybe I could expose her as a con-artist or something, but I guess she’s a lot more dangerous than I thought.”

“I don’t think it’s the kind of thing we can take to the police or the trading standards people,” Martin said. “But it is such a relief to find someone else who knows something dodgy is going on in there.” He scratched his chin. “Hang on, if this Dr Tate is some sort of therapist there could be other people being screwed up too!”

“Yeah, I bet. I want to do something about it!”

Martin knew that feeling all too well. “We need to find other people who know what’s going on but haven’t had anything done to them, you know, directly. And once we’ve found them, we need a way to keep in touch that isn’t meeting up, just in case Tate realises we’re on to her and has one of us followed.”

“Well that part’s easy,” the man replied. “We can set up a secret rebel base online and then we just have to make sure no one uses their real name, so no one knows who anyone else is. You know, codenames and stuff.”

Martin frowned. “Secret rebel base? This isn’t bloody Star Wars!”

“It’s just a turn of phrase.”

“But I get what you mean,” Martin said, not wanting to alienate his only ally. “We could put adverts out there, not mentioning Tate or anything obvious, but stuff that would leap out to people like us, right? And we could stake out this place and see who else they’ve got their claws into. But who can we trust to get the web stuff done?”

“Me,” the man grinned. “That’s what I do for a living. I’ve got a domain I haven’t used yet. Give me a couple of hours and then go to ‘weirdshitsherlock.com’.”

“Okay, that’s a plan,” Martin said, wondering why he would have such a strange website. “You set it up, we’ll use that to keep in touch and I’ll think about ways to find other people like us. Oh, my name’s Martin by the way.”

The man laughed. “Really? Mine too.” He held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you, Martin.”

 

The picture that says it all…

… about Just A Minute at the Sci-Fi Weekender 2013.

Yup, I reckon I made that face a lot.

Photo reproduced with the kind permission of Aidan Moran.