Stuart Aken's Blog, page 262

THE WRITERS’ TOOLKIT

THE WRITERS’ TOOLKIT: a handbook for authors of commercial fiction.  Penny Grubb & Danuta Reah. Published by Fantastic Books Publishing. Pb: £6.99.Pre-order from Fantastic Books UK post-freeWhere’s the best place for a novel to start? How do you tell? What pulls a reader into one book over another? What do you do if you can’t get any tension into a scene that should be high-drama? How do you lift a scene that seems to drag? Are you fed up with staring at a blank page?The toolkits take you step by step, element by element and give you the components you need for every stage of your novel.I know Penny Grubb's writing well. I'd advise any writer serious about commercial fiction to read this book.
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Arthur: Roman Britain’s Last Champion, by Beram Saklatvala, Reviewed

Arthur, the last ‘king’ of the Britons, has been analysed, scrutinised, mocked and praised through the ages. For a man without any positive identity or even, perhaps, existence, this is quite an achievement.
Those who recognise the ancient British hero as either the mythical demi-god or the possibly real last leader to stand against the invading English, will be familiar with the works of the past. Mallory, Geoffrey of Monmouth and William of Malmsbury will all be names that strike chords of recognition, with Mallory’s Morte D’Arthur probably the most well-known source of speculation and romance regarding this character from our ancient past.
In his studious and careful re-examination of known facts, scholarly conjecture and outright fable, Saklatvala has brought together these know sources and added many less familiar works to the canon for an in-depth examination of the possible reality. My only criticism of his narrative stems from his clear bias toward the positive role of Christianity in Arthur’s background; I suspect that this leaning toward that religion has distorted some of his judgement. However, I applaud the scholarship displayed along the way.
The book, necessarily, contains a huge number of ‘if’s; such is the nature of conjecture. And, if nothing else, we who are not such scholars learn a good deal about how the mind of the archaeologist functions. In the absence of concrete evidence, speculation, informed by knowledge of times, customs, actual historical events and other reliable sources, steps in to form a picture of possibilities. Whether the reader believes the resultant conclusions is dependent on that reader’s prior knowledge of the subject, his own prejudices, and the ability of the narrator to convince him of his theories.
I came to this topic with the average English schoolboy’s knowledge of Arthur, informed by scant history from school lessons, the imaginative Disney The Sword in the Stonemovie, Mary Stewart’s quintet of Arthurian legends, the musical Camelot and, of course, the inimical Monty Python and the Holy Grail . So, I imagine I was fairly typical of the majority of people in this respect.
Monty Python and the Holy Grail (Photo credit: Wikipedia)What I found in these pages surprised and informed me. I came across many names I had forgotten I knew; Vortigern, Ambrosius, Hengist, Horsa, Bede and others. But I was introduced to entirely new characters both historical and legendary; Germanus, Maximus, Gratian, Valentinian, Nennius, Claudian and Gildas amongst many.
Saklatvala has studied innumerable texts and put together those facts that appear to support each other from disparate sources to form the kernel of a possible truth about Arthur. The label, ‘King’, is clearly a latter day title for a man who was probably known in his lifetime as the ‘Duke of Britain’, a military leader devoted to the task of keeping alive the traditions and values of Rome at a time when that empire was swapping military power, which had declined to the point of non-existence, for religious power in the role of Father of Christianity in the person of the Pope.
The reason for much that is valued in current society has been made clearer to me by reading this book and I suggest that anyone with an interest in English history would be well served by reading it. It was first published in 1967 and new evidence has come to light since then, some no doubt inspired by the book itself. Nevertheless, the nub of the narrative remains, I suspect, as credible now as it was when the book was written. Scholars with specialist knowledge will no doubt already be aware of the theories and conclusions made by this author. But those who have only a passing familiarity with the legend that is King Arthur will undoubtedly discover much food for thought within these careful and comprehensive pages. Give it a try; you might be surprised by what it tells you.
Related articles Excalibur Review: The Last Enchantment by Mary Stewart [image error]

New Ebook Cover Requirements for High Quality Ereaders

Heads up.  Effective on or about July 15, Smashwords will begin requiring higher pixel counts on ebook cover images.

Why the change?  Starting in August, Apple will require that all new ebook cover images be at least 1,400 pixels wide.  Their previous minimum was 600 pixels. 

Since Smashwords requires vertical rectangle (height greater than width) images, a new recommended ebook cover might be around 1,600 pixels wide by 2,400 pixels tall.  Why 2,400?  2,400 is 1.5 times 1,600. Pull out a ruler and measure just about any print book and you'll get a ratio close to that.  Most good-looking covers have heights that range from approximately 1.3 to 1.6 times your width.  Amazon recommendsa 1.6 width/height ratio, and their recommended height is 2,500 pixels. As you can see, there's flexibility here for personal preference whether you prefer wide or long.  The image above left shows what a 1.5 ratio looks like.  The height is 50% greater than the width.

Why is Apple requiring higher pixel counts?  Most likely, it's because they want to provide ebook customers better covers for their current and future higher resolution iPads, iPhones and MacBooks.  Since we think the Apple and Amazon guidelines are reasonable (they help readers with next-generation screens enjoy your covers in all their glory), we'll adopt Apple's requirements as our new minimum standards for cover images.

What happens next?
Apple's new requirement applies to new ebooks, and new cover updates.  If your book is already in the Apple iBookstore with a smaller cover image, you're grandfathered in, UNLESS you try to update your cover image in the future, in which case they'll reject it.  To help you get ahead of this change, Smashwords will make the 1,400 pixel minimum a Premium Catalog requirement starting on or around July 15.  Like Apple, we'll apply the standard to new titles and cover image updates.   If we previously shipped your smaller cover to retailers, we won't require the new cover image size unless you update your cover image or republish a previously unpublished book. The minimum dimensions do not apply to the images or cover image inside your .epub file.  

The Smashwords FAQ is now updated to reflect the new recommendations and requirements.  I'll update the Smashwords Style Guide in the next day or two so one month from now this won't come as a surprise to people.


How NOT to create a new cover image
Don't use a photo or image editing program to enlarge your current image.  That will cause pixelation (blur).  

How to create your cover image
You'll find some tips in the Smashwords FAQ, though my best recommendation is to hire a professional.  Unless you're a professional graphic artist, it's best to hire a cover image designer. Send an email to list@smashwords.com to obtain my list of low cost cover designers and ebook formatters (they're all freelancers, we don't receive a commission or referral fee). Their rates range from about $40 to $100, a range I consider very reasonable.  Most have online portfolios so you can see if their style matches what  you're looking for.  If they don't match what you want, post a note at the Smashwords Facebook page to ask your fellow authors for references.  There are many great cover designers out there, and most are very affordable.  See my free ebook, The Secrets to Ebook Publishing Success, for comments on why a professional ebook cover image is so critical to a book's success.

Please share this post with your fellow authors and publishers so everyone has ample advance notice. 


As above, I've posted this for my readers, so you can be aware of this coming change.
Related articles New Ebook Cover Image Requirements Coming to Satisfy Higher Resolution E-Reading Devices Formatting Your Ebook for Kindle, Barnes and Noble (or Epub), and Smashwords Smashwords Delivers Faster Shipments to Apple and Kobo [image error]

Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 22

Not started reading this yet? Have a look at the reviews on the 'My Books' tab. They may persuade you it's worth a try at least.
Alternatively, if you've been with me this far, are you still enjoying this story? I certainly hope so.
I posted Chapter 1 way back on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have appeared here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search for the chapter you want to read.
Missed the start? Find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Read, enjoy, invite your friends to join us.
Chapter 22
Monday 3rd May
Leigh had no jobs, as it was a bank holiday, and was in the studio with Netta. Mervyn had come in to complete a large order for Leigh to deliver the next day when he went to Carlisle. I was finishing the order as he printed it, even though it meant working closely with Mervyn.‘Show us yours an’ I’ll show you mine.’‘I’ve seen more of it than I care to, Mervyn and I’m not impressed. Mine, on the other hand, will remain hidden.’ But an audacious idea began to form from his constant demands to see me naked. I was desperate to impress Leigh, and one way I might do it was by learning to print his photographs to a high standard.Mervyn was foul as a man but brilliant in the darkroom. If I could learn to do what he did, Leigh would value me very highly. At the back of my mind rose the thought that I might also replace Mervyn and get him out of Longhouse for good. I shuddered at the thought of what I was about to propose but steeled myself by imagining Leigh’s delight when I succeeded. Mum had said that love meant doing what the loved one wants, not what you want for yourself. It was a sacrifice I would make for Leigh.I took a deep breath. ‘I’ll make a deal with you, Mervyn.’He was all attention.‘I’d never let you see me in the flesh but, in exchange for a favour, I might let you have a picture of me, in my bra and pants.’ I was trimming the excess white borders from prints that had come off the glazer.Mervyn had just finished in the darkroom, having started early so he could go back home for some unspecified purpose. He was tidying up, ready to leave. ‘Seen all on you any road. Just wanna see it a bit closer, that’s all.’‘You most certainly have not!’‘Have! Seen your twat and your arse and your little tits. Bigger now. Seen every little bit on you.’‘Don’t be disgusting. No one has.’‘Cept your pervert father every time ‘e stuck it up your spastic sister. Any road, I ‘ave. Seen you swimmin’ in that little lake.’I very nearly chopped in two the print I was trimming. It had never occurred to me that anyone could have watched me swimming. Blood flushed my whole body and I felt unclean at the thought of his eyes on me. I wanted to be free of him, wanted to shower myself clean of his prying eyes on me in that private place. But I recalled Mum’s words and my ambition for Leigh, bit my lip, swallowed and continued to persuade him.‘If you do as I ask, you can have a picture. That must be better than a snatched glimpse from the trees up there with me in the water.’‘What you want, then?’Netta used her body to get round Leigh and I wondered if I could do the same with Mervyn. I would have to be very careful not to make him think I was inviting his touch. I shifted my stance and put my weight on one foot, throwing my hip out and resting my hand there as I had seen Netta pose. ‘I want to learn to print. Not to do you out of a job, Mervyn. Just to print some pictures of my own. If you agree, you can teach me using a picture of me in my underwear.’He licked his lips lasciviously until I felt sullied and defiled. But I’d do almost anything to win respect and admiration from Leigh. It need not take long. Once Mervyn had taught me the basics, I could learn the rest on my own.‘Who’s gonna teck the picture?’‘I’m perfectly capable of taking a self-portrait. But you must promise to say nothing to Leigh. He mustn’t know anything about it. Agreed?’‘No undies. Full frontal. Starkers wi’ your legs spread wide.’I glanced at the pictures behind him on the wall. Some of the women were displaying just their breasts. I wondered; could I do that?‘With my bra off, then.’‘Piss off. All or nowt.’‘You want a picture of me naked before you’ll agree?’‘Full frontal. Twat, tits, everythin’.’I would feel defiled, abused, reduced and violated as he showed me how to print, using pictures of my naked body. I thought about Leigh’s expression of delight when he discovered I could print. Maybe I would do well enough to get rid of Mervyn from Longhouse forever. But, more than anything else, Leigh would be proud of me; he would admire my skill and notice me again.‘If that’s the price.’‘Fuck me! You mean it, don’t you?’‘I want to learn. Leigh says you’re the best there is.’‘Fuck me! Legs apart, mind. No ‘iding owt behind your fingers.’‘You’ll see everything. Now, promise you won’t say anything to Leigh?’‘Yeah. Don’t see why you care, mind.’‘I care, and that’s reason enough. If you say a word to Leigh, I’ll tell him how often you swear at me. And you know what he said about that.’‘Don’t threaten me, twat. I can keep a promise. When you gonna do it?’‘I’ll take the picture later and you can start by showing me how to develop the film. We’ll have to work together when Leigh’s out so he won’t know.’‘Sounds fuckin’ good to me. Have to be in the dark together.’‘I’ll make one thing quite clear, Mervyn. Looking is one thing, but if you so much as touch me, I’ll make sure you’re out of here forever. Understand?’‘Keep your fuckin’ tits on. I know ‘ow to behave.’‘You’ll do it, then?’‘Try an’ fuckin’ stop me!’It was as much as I could take. I left the prints and him without another word. I could return to finish off when he’d gone.On the small landing above the ladder, I paused to still my breathing and collect my thoughts. My stomach was churning. Leigh and Netta were no longer in the studio and I guessed they’d gone to the bedroom to have sex.I went through the kitchen and found them having coffee with Ma. In spite of the weather, I left for the garden and stood there breathing in the cool damp air, letting the rain wash me free of the dirt I’d let Mervyn plaster on me. It would be worth it, I kept telling myself; worth it to see Leigh’s delight at my skill. Over and over, I said to myself that Leigh was worth the sacrifice.‘Come in, Faith. You’ll catch your death!’ Ma was at the back door that led from the utility room, squinting out to where I stood. She waved and I started across the short grass back to the house.I realized I was soaked to the skin and wondered how long I’d been out there. Old Hodge shook his head at me as I crossed the kitchen floor on my way upstairs to dry and change. Leigh and Netta had returned to the studio.In the bathroom, I peeled off my wet clothes and towelled my skin dry. Mervyn’s words assailed me again as he admitted to his voyeurism at the tarn. And I considered my deal again; to show him a picture of my naked body in exchange for learning his skill.Sex and nudity. I seemed unable to escape these everyday obsessions. I was exposed to them everywhere. I had resolved to educate myself by reading and by watching films on the idiot’s lantern but my environment was determined to show me the facts more brutally than the works of others ever could.I draped my towel over the heated rail in the bathroom and left my clothes to drain in the bath as I went across the corridor change. Again, coincidence, fate, whatever influence was at work, caught me out. I came face to face with Leigh as he walked the corridor from his bedroom to the bathroom.My instinct was to cover myself with my hands but I brazened it out in this house where flesh was always on display. Though my mind told me to run, I let my heart slow me and make me saunter, pause at my door and half turn to face him over my shoulder.He gazed at me in such a way that blood flushed through me in a sensation that was as exciting as it was disturbing. Leigh’s admiring stare, I discovered, was as pleasant as Mervyn’s mental undressing was vile.‘My God, you’re lovely, Faith.’He would have stared at me forever had I not gone into my room.I sat on the edge of my bed and tried to make sense of what was happening around and to me. It was so difficult to know how I really felt, what I thought, what I wanted, even. Confusion was my chief experience of life.From my reading, I recognized something of the bewilderment suffered by adolescents. Nearing twenty-one, I lacked the background and experience to understand the changes that effected my behaviour and affected my moods and thinking. Although the hormonal changes of adolescence had long been complete, Heacham had stifled my emotional development and only now was I learning what most women learned in their teens.Why, I wondered, had I been unembarrassed, unconcerned even at Leigh viewing my nude body, yet reacted with almost physical nausea to the mere idea of Mervyn seeing a picture of me naked. Did my being in love with Leigh make the difference?‘No point sitting there thinking Leigh’ll see you and be impressed. You have to pose and flaunt yourself, spread your thighs and take him inside if you want him to notice you at all.’ Netta broke into my thoughts. ‘Course, you’re not about to follow my example, are you? Far too special and choosy to do that. Fine. I don’t care, Fay. The less others have of him the more there is for me. Ma asked me to tell you lunch is ready, by the way.’‘Am I pretty?’ I stood for my sister, determined to discover the truth.She assessed me and a wicked smile played on her lips before she abruptly became serious and looked into my eyes. ‘I could tell you anything and you’d believe me, wouldn’t you? I hate to admit it, Fay, but you’re just like all the women in our family, bloody gorgeous.’‘Is that the truth?’‘Unfortunately.’ And she was gone.I thought about her reply. Had she told me the truth? Was her opinion valid anyway? What would a man think of me? What I really wanted to know was what Leigh thought about me. And, I realized with a sudden shock, he had declared that I was lovely. I smiled and pulled some clothes on. I was not ready to wander about the house half naked like Netta and Abby and most of Leigh’s other women. Would I ever be ready for such a public display?‘Mervyn’s got his eye on you.’ I told Netta in the kitchen. ‘He was watching you pose for Leigh and he told me he…well, I can’t repeat his words, but what he said made me shudder.’‘Ta for the warning, Fay, but I can handle Merv the perv. Rattles you, though, doesn’t he?’‘I can’t stand the great lout. He’s foul mouthed, vulgar and lewd and I believe he’s dangerous. I wouldn’t want to be alone with him away from the protection of Longhouse.’‘Trouble with Merv is he’s scared stiff, or more likely, limp, of women. Likes to look but terrified to touch. Merv’s a classic peeper, a voyeur. If you were naked at his feet with your legs wide apart, he’d run the other way. I bet he spies on women whenever he gets the chance.’‘That’s what I’m always telling her. I hate the sod’s attitude to women, but he’s a bloody marvellous printer; brilliant. I’m sure he’d never harm anyone. Like Netta says, he’s a coward at heart.’I wondered why Leigh and Netta couldn’t see the mean hatred and lust for revenge that haunted Mervyn’s eyes. I was as certain of his menace as Leigh was convinced of his harmlessness.‘What did you do with those wet things when you took them off, Faith?’ Ma’s sudden question broke into my thoughts.‘They’re draining in the bath, Ma. I’ll bring them down when they’ve stopped dripping.’‘Good lass. Not like Netta. She don’t wear a lot, but what little there is she spreads over the whole house. If you’re not careful, young lady, you’ll end up doing your own laundry. And that’ll mean washing and ironing Leigh’s shirts to the standard he likes.’Netta gave a meaningful look at Leigh.‘Ma’s right.’She was unhappy about that. Ma caught my eye and grinned at Netta’s obvious discomfiture.The phone rang in the office. I found Zoë wanting Leigh. He went straight to the phone, much to Netta’s annoyance.‘Who’s Zoë?’‘One of Leigh’s girlfriends; a very attractive woman who lives in London. He went to college with her.’Ma nodded. ‘Lovely lass, Zoë. I’d hoped they’d marry at one time.’ She looked at me. ‘But now there’s someone better for him right under his nose.’Netta snorted. ‘Leigh’ll never marry Fay! He likes big tits and women who love to screw…’‘I like all breasts. Size isn’t an issue. Quality is what counts, and Faith has very lovely breasts. In fact, she’s a very lovely woman all over.’ He’d come back through to speak to Ma.‘Seen her tits, have you?’He looked at me and I knew he wouldn’t answer for fear of offending me.‘Yes. Leigh’s seen all of me, if you must know.’Netta was shocked into silence and I exchanged a knowing glance with Leigh.‘You okay for another mouth next weekend, Ma?’‘Zoë coming up for your birthday?’He nodded.‘Always welcome, is Zoë.’He went back into the office, closing the door behind him.‘Leigh’s birthday? He never said anything to me!’I smiled. For once, I knew something my sister did not. ‘Leigh’ll be thirty on Sunday.’A look of calculation crossed her face, making her appear rather mean for an instant. ‘Is he having a party?’‘Course he is! I’d not let Leigh’s birthday pass without celebration. And be warned, young lady, a lot of his previous girlfriends will be here. He always parts with them on good terms and they’re usually glad to come back to see him. No one owns our Leigh, so don’t run away with the idea that he’s yours exclusively.’‘Whatever made you think that? As long as there’s enough for me, I don’t care who has a piece of him. His popularity and the fact that he’s irresistible are part of what makes him attractive.’‘Mebbie. But will you ever have enough of him?’‘I always say you can’t have too much of a good thing.’‘I just don’t want you making trouble. Especially not on his birthday. Understood?’‘Wouldn’t dream of it, Ma.’But Netta’s eyes made me feel she wasn’t telling the truth and I wondered what she was scheming.


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You've come all this way, so it's unlikely you'll stop until you reach the end. But, just in case you're impatient for the next chapter, you know where you can buy the book. If you do, please write a review and post it wherever you can - Amazon, Goodreads, any other bookish site. Reviews are what get indie published books noticed, you see.
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Related articles Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 21 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 20

The Writing Den; What's Yours?

Whether luck or prudence provided me with a room of my own is for others to determine. My suspicion is that, in common with most things in life, it's a mixture of these things. Be that as it may, I have the good fortune to have a room in which I can lock myself away from other concerns when I write.
It's not ideal. Small, with a window, behind me, that overlooks the end of the drive with the fence between us and the neighbours beyond and the garage door to the right. As I sit, at a desk built from a flat-pack kit bought some twenty or so years ago, I face the door into the hallway of our bungalow. At present, because I'm writing this before my wife and daughter have emerged from sleep, I have that door closed. Hanging from a hook on the back is a hand drawn map of the land I'm using to set my epic fantasy. Beside that, a cork board bears a few documents as aids in my everyday writing as well as a collage I made as part of the creative aspect of Julia Cameron's The Artist's Way course I'm currently undertaking. It depicts those things I most want in life and is intended as both motivator and reminder of why I do this thing; writing. Next to that is a portrait of my wife and a couple of self-designed posters to act as reminders about certain of my less positive aspects - positive statements to keep me on track.
A large, four drawer cabinet sits below these, housing an assortment of things that have nothing to do with my writing; it lives here as the only suitable location for such a metal monstrosity. Utilitarian but exceedingly useful.
Directly in front of the desk a small chest of drawers stores various bits and pieces and acts as base for my printers. Printers? Yes. A monochrome multifunction laser printer for my physical submissions; it gives the best quality text. And a colour inkjet for my drafts and to print off those things that need to be in colour, including photographs.
My desk holds the computer, which actually sits on the desk as there's no room on the floor, where my feet rest on a plastic footrest. A pair of headphones sits on top of the computer box, for those times I want to exclude all external noise, playing the music I have recorded onto the system. My flat screen monitor is directly ahead, on one of those rotating stands that allows it to be moved out of the way. The speakers sit either side and the mouse, along with a graphics pad rest to my right. The box of gubbins that projects the internet signal to my wife and daughter's computers also lurks there, under the monitor. A document stand rises with various bits of essential paperwork to the left and a coaster holds a glass of water (I never drink alcohol in here, though wine is stored in a rack just behind the door.)
I have pens, pads and post-it notes at hand either behind me on the windowsill or on the desk itself. The drawers to my right hold all the essential stationery and other stuff I might need.
The walls on either side are lined from floor to ceiling with shelves bearing most of my books. My essential reference volumes are within easy reach for all those occasions I need to consult an oracle.
I play music as I write. Not because I listen to it, but because it excludes those external sounds that might otherwise distract me. I have two playlists. One mostly of popular music and giving 2 days of tunes if played constantly. The other contains classical music and would last for a day and a half if played without stopping. I play them alternately and use the random selection option so I never know what track is coming next.
A radiator at my back keeps me warm in winter and the window above it can be opened for fresh air and cooling breezes in summer.
There is little decoration, largely because there's very little spare wall space. But there's room for a few pictures and I intend to fill that soon. I also have a couple of small statuettes; one a porcelain slip cast in white of a female torso that I picked up from a potter in the Yorkshire Dales many years ago. The other is a fairly primitive carving of a kneeling woman, which I found in a shop on the Greek island of Rhodes, a favourite holiday destination. I like it for its simplicity and natural quality.
So, there you have it. The place I use to create my works.
Is it ideal? Of course not. I'd love a large library room, with an antique desk and plenty of space to spread out, and a view overlooking the sea, to which I could walk in minutes. But that's the dream and it'll take a lot more work to make it reality.
But it is my own room. My private space. I can relax in here and do as I wish. My wife and daughter respect my need for solitary times and rarely interrupt me, unless they have some sudden computer issue that needs sorting or some domestic emergency arises that I'm best suited to resolve.
I have my space and I make great use of it. I admire those writers, usually women, who are forced to carry out their craft at the dining table with family as constant distraction. To create under such conditions would be almost impossible for me, and I salute their dedication and ability.
So, where do you write? Share your space with others who visit this site and see if we can't, between us, inspire some creativity.  
Related articles Author Jo Ramsey on her Writing Space and Writing Methods [image error]

The Anome, by Jack Vance, Reviewed.

Described on the back cover of the Coronet edition I read, as Science Fantasy, this novel was first published in 1971, and is the first of a trilogy. I come late to it via my brother who was disposing of it during a small house clearance. I'm glad I chanced upon it.
The setting is another world; the time, the very distant future, when humans have left the Solar System and colonised other planets. This is a world without the computer as we know it, though certain of the tools and devices display functions that we normally associate with computers.
The inhabitants of this strange world, orbiting a binary star system, have degenerated into a great number of disparate tribes, all with their own specific beliefs and prejudices. Violence is almost unheard of, except in the brutal way that life is terminated in the case of transgression. But a breed of what seem to be mutants descend from the wild hills and prey on the women to ensnare and impregnate them to act as brood mares for their offspring. It is this outbreak of uncharacteristic wild violence that spurs the hero into action.
Sects of various types illustrate the way that religion and faith can so easily dominate an otherwise rational population to the detriment of freedom, love and compassion.
I don't wish to give away too much about the story, which is compelling and well constructed. Peopled by believable characters who interact with a strange politeness within the overly controlled society they inhabit, the world is disturbingly odd and yet familiar. Much remains unexplained but footnotes give occasional descriptions of some of the oddly named features and events. The reader is a stranger here but finds empathy with the main character, the hero, introduced as Mur but maturing through ritual to become Etzwane.There are huge injustices and the sexes are distinctly separate in both temperament and treatment.
I found the story intriguing and grew to empathise with Etzwane in spite of his oddly detached and understated care and compassion for his mother. His determination to act when all around him those in power are determined not to act is endearing. But he is, in common with his fellow inhabitants, strangely unemotional and seeks rational explanations for behaviour which we would accept as springing from emotional sources.
This is a world with little metal but much glass, which is used in its stead for many objects. It is a world of rich and poor, fanatical faithful and determined secular, high fashion and drab utilitarianism. In these respects, much like the Earth from whence these colonists sprang many centuries previously.
The story winds, twists and turns, with much action interspersed with conversation that explains the differences between the various cults without saying how these differences came about. There is a little too much exposition; too much tell and not enough show for a modern reader, but I was prepared to overlook that because the quality of the writing was otherwise very good.
As is common with the fantasy trilogy, this first volume ends after a sort of conclusion of one part of the action, but this is not the satisfactory ending to a book that most readers seek. Clearly the intention is to ensnare the reader into following the rest of the trilogy. And, had I not over 180 titles in my 'to read' list, I might be tempted to do just that. As it is, I have other dishes to sample and whether I ever return to the tale remains to be seen.
For readers of imaginative fantasy I suspect this will prove very satisfactory. It certainly deserves notice for its depth and breadth of imagination; the world being well conceived and constructed. For those who prefer their fantasy fiction in a more predictable form, there are too many oddities and disturbing aspects without the usual crop of thieves, dragons, dwarves or other magical creatures. This is a book with an entirely individual agenda and, as such, I commend it to you.
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Sensuous Touches, Now Available on Amazon

This collection of 8 short stories (ranging from 9,000 to 1,000 words, so plenty of variety in length) features alpha males and stunning females in exciting pairings. These tales will excite both genders. There are thrills spiced with lust and desire, fantasy love affairs, an adult fairy tale and an example of bondage for those who like their fantasy sex a little out there.
Written for enjoyment, these stories will stimulate, entice, tease, entertain, arouse, amuse, and ultimately satisfy. Read alone or with the special someone you want to share yourself with. But, most of all, enjoy. Life is too short to miss the pleasures available.
The new anthology of erotic stories is now available to be viewed and bought on Amazon UK here priced at £2.01 and on Amazon USA here at a cost of $3.09 (I imagine it's at $2.99 for USA buyers, but Amazon knows I'm in the UK, so adds a bit to the price).For those purchasing from Europe, the cost is €2.60 via your own versions of Amazon.If you'd like a free copy so you can review it, have a look at the post below and follow the simple instructions.The book is also available via Smashwords, using this link. 
A Wordle composite formed from the words most commonly used in the book.
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Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 21

Still enjoying this story? I certainly hope so.
I posted Chapter 1 way back on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have appeared here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search for the chapter you want to read.
Missed the start? Find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Read, enjoy, invite your friends to join us.
Chapter 21
Saturday May 1st
Mum arrived just before nine. The sun was already hot in a clear sky and I was pleased my cotton dress was in keeping with her outfit, even if mine was longer and Mum had followed Germaine Greer’s advice; in spite of her age, her breasts seemed quite firm enough to support themselves. Conscious of my nipples, I usually wore a bra.Leigh and Netta were still in bed, despite Ma’s warning that they’d have to get their own breakfast if they were up late. Mum and I left at once and she seemed genuinely pleased to have my company.‘I’m going to try to catch up on your education whenever I can, Faith. If I ask you searching questions, even seem a little personal, it’s only so I can discover what you do and don’t know. Okay?’‘Mum, I want to learn. I want to break out of my cocoon of ignorance as soon as I can.’‘Good. Are you on the pill?’‘What pill?’‘Who’s your doctor?’‘Am I supposed to have a doctor?’‘Who saw you when you were ill at the cottage?’‘Fa… The B.’‘Call him “Heacham,” love. It pays him the respect he deserves, which is none. You’ve no reason to feel anything but contempt and hatred for him so don’t harbour any guilt about using just his surname. Who’s Leigh’s doctor?’‘A man called Paul, I think. He examined me after the B… Heacham gave me the last beating.’‘He’d done it before?’‘Often. If I did something wrong I was stripped and beaten with his belt. Of course, he made me wear very little anyway, so I was ready for a beating in seconds. But that last time was the worst.’Mum was silent for a while, tears running down her cheeks. She pulled the car into the side of the road and took a little time to compose herself. She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue and looked at herself in the car mirror. ‘What a sight!’ She pulled a small case from her handbag and applied some colour to her face and her eyes.I was fascinated, having seen the models do this in front of mirror in the studio but never from quite such close quarters.‘Sorry about that. I hadn’t realized just how cruel Heacham had been to you. I’m sorry I left you with him for so many years. Will you forgive me?’‘I already have, Mum. Anyway, you really had no choice.’She drove off again. ‘Do you believe everything everyone tells you?’‘I believe you. And Leigh. And Ma and Old Hodge, of course. I used to believe everything Heacham told me, but now….’‘First important lesson, Faith. People lie. All people lie. Heacham lies, he lies so much that he even gives a distorted and addled version of his own peculiar truths; like most religious people. I lie. Leigh lies. Netta lies more than most, especially if she thinks she can gain from it. Ma lies. Old Hodge… Old Hodge probably only lies by omission and even then not if he can avoid it. Assume everybody lies, Faith, for their own advantage.’‘Are you saying you didn’t need to leave me with Heacham?’Mum shook her head but continued to look at the road. We had left the area I knew and were moving south. The terrain was much as I’d grown up with except that the new landscapes were more dramatic.‘It’s so hard, Faith. I believed at the time I had no choice. I tried to take you with me but he was too strong for me and I was scared after the way he’d hit me. I was the guilty party. I’d been having affairs, having sex with other men. For all his other faults, he was always loyal to me that way. Not that he ever showed any interest in other women, to be honest. I suppose I felt he deserved something out of our parting. I had no real reason to suspect he’d be cruel to you; otherwise, I’d have fought tooth and nail to keep you. Hope was a lost cause and I had no concerns about her, poor thing. But, if I’d known what he’d do to you, I might’ve found a way to keep you with me.’‘So, you did what you thought was best for everybody at the time?’‘Are you always so generous in your judgement of others?’‘Fa… I do hate that! Heacham taught me not to make judgements. He did it himself, all the time, of course. But he said I was stupid and ill informed and had insufficient information to make considered judgements. I believed him. I had no reason not to. So, I don’t make judgements.’‘Christ, that man’s a shit! But I’m with him on making hasty judgements. It’s too easy to go on first impressions and allow yourself to be prejudiced against someone or something unnecessarily all your life.‘Anyway, we were talking about you and the pill. When we get back, find out who this Paul is. Get on his books and ask him to prescribe you the pill.’‘What pill is it?’‘The contraceptive pill, of course.’‘What does it do?’‘It stops you… Oh, Faith, it’s hard to accept you’re so naïve. It stops you becoming pregnant. But you must take it regularly or it won’t work. Some types may make your periods…’‘Don’t I have to have sex to get pregnant? I thought it could only happen if you let a man put his penis in…’‘Yes, love. You do, as you say, have to have proper sex to risk pregnancy. Start taking it now and then you’ll be ready when the first chance comes up. You’re not safe until you’ve been taking it a while. I can’t remember how long; I’ve been on it for years.’‘But who am I likely to have sex with?’She shook her head again and smiled. ‘If no other man comes into your life and, with your looks, that’s unlikely, I expect you’ll want to go to bed with Leigh at least.’I couldn’t imagine being so close and intimate with any man but Leigh. But I wasn’t going to allow even him to penetrate my body until we were married.‘He hasn’t asked me to marry him, Mum. And he’s not likely to whilst Netta’s around.’‘Sex isn’t dependent on marriage, Faith. Not even in your case. There’ll come a time when the opportunity presents itself, when you and Leigh have a chance to make love. You need to be ready.’‘But I won’t have sex until I’m married.’‘You will, Faith, believe me. I know what I’m talking about. You’ll have sex before you get married. I promise you that.’It was pointless arguing. If it would make Mum feel happier, then I would do as she suggested. ‘Okay. I’ll sort it out as soon as I get back to Longhouse’‘Promise?’‘Mum, if I say I’ll do something, I’ll do it.’‘I expect you will. Periods. What do you know about them?’I knew the term.‘What did Heacham tell you?’‘He said I shouldn’t make a fuss and it’d happen every month. Funny, it was the one thing Mrs Greenhough helped me with.’She sighed. ‘The sisterhood.’We drove in silence for a while through countryside that had become far less rural. There were towns now, some quite large. We passed through streets thronged with Saturday shoppers and I wondered why we didn’t stop in any of these places.‘Leeds is a big city, Faith. Wonderful shopping. I love the city. You’ll find it exciting and lively. Netta loves to come shopping, especially if we’ve got money to spend.’‘You go shopping without money?’‘Window-shopping. It’s wonderful. You’ll love it.’‘Seems a bit pointless.’She laughed. ‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Anyway, today I have money. I’ve been asking for cash instead of presents all this week. I don’t like to, and they know I wouldn’t normally, but I explained and they were eager to help. They wanted to meet you but I explained, told them you’re not like Netta and me but only interested in one man. They were disappointed, of course, but I’m not going to change you.‘Actually, I’m really lucky. One daughter I can indulge in all the pleasures we share with men and another I can be more serious with. I can share the cultured side of life with you, Faith. You’re intelligent and bright, probably creative, where Netta’s just a natural hedonist and not the brightest of souls. I didn’t have to teach her to be a sexual beast, you know. Given her head, she’d have been at it even sooner. Netta’s a feline creature with all the sexual scruples of an alley cat.‘I don’t blame her, of course. I enjoy my men just as much. I’ve no shame about accepting gifts in return for pleasure. I sometimes don’t get anything, except for my own pleasure, of course. But I generally get enough to keep me in style. Does that shock you?’‘Are you a prostitute, Mum?’‘Christ! Leigh said you were direct. No. I’m not. Some might see it that way, I suppose. I never charge the men I go with. I don’t hire myself out by the hour or so much for certain services. It’s not like that. But there’s an unwritten rule that says they make a gift in exchange for the pleasure I give them. I give my body; they give me the things I need to live a good life. Fix the boiler, decorate the lounge, buy groceries, that sort of thing, you know?’I could see no material difference between this and prostitution but I couldn’t condemn her. I might have to revise my views on prostitution instead.We reached the city and Mum found a place to park straight away in a tall building made of several floors all devoted to space for cars. I thought it a bit weird. Leeds was huge and I made a mental note to apologize to Leigh for doubting what he’d said about cities.The day was a whirl. Mum whisked me from shop to shop to café to shop to shop to café to shop in such a rush that I experienced little but confusion and disorientation. She, however, obviously enjoyed herself enormously and I just tagged along and hoped I nodded in the right places.Leigh had paid me in cash up to date and refused to take anything for my board and lodgings. I had some spending money and was able to buy his birthday card and present. At Mum’s insistence, I bought some new clothes, more underwear and some of the basic ingredients needed to paint my face. She bought me a razor and some skin lotion.‘What for, Mum? I thought only men shaved.’‘Under arms at the very least, and, if you can’t face waxing, your private parts.’I was very happy to get into the car and leave that frenetic place for the peace and quiet of the countryside.‘It’s been one of the best days I’ve had for ages. Enjoyed it?’I couldn’t deflate her and I had another lesson in lying to avoid hurt. ‘It’s been a lovely day, Mum. Thank you.’We drove in silence, which I relished after so much rush and noise.‘You’re very quiet.’‘Tired.’She was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I suppose it might be tiring if you’re not used to it. Next time you’ll have a better idea what to expect and it won’t seem so daunting.’I said nothing. I hoped the next time would be months in the future and I didn’t want to spoil Mum’s obvious enjoyment of the trip.‘Wasn’t your idea of fun, was it, Faith?’‘I, well there were…’‘I’m your Mum. It’s all right. You can be honest with me.’‘It’s all so overwhelming, Mum. I found York quite intimidating. It was only because I was with Leigh that I managed to deal with it so well…’‘That’s fine. Honestly, it is. I’m glad Leigh was more able to entertain you and keep your mind off the negative aspects than I was. It shows you have deep feelings for a man. It’s obvious you’re not a city lover and you clearly don’t like shopping. But that’s no problem, Faith. I’ve got Netta to go shopping with. We’ll find something else to enjoy together. Do you like walking?’‘Yes. I like being with you, Mum. For the moment, that’s enough for me. And I’d rather have you to myself than share you with strangers.’‘Do you at least like what you’ve bought today?’‘Yes. And the things you’ve bought me. Thanks, Mum.’‘Pleasure. Not keen on the idea of makeup, though, are you?’‘It seems like a cheat. Not natural. Like showing the world someone else.’‘God, you’re like your dad. He was a lover of the natural and unadorned. He certainly loved me unadorned. The less adorned the better, in fact. Oh, he was a lovely man.’‘Miss him, don’t you?’‘I’m still in love with him. Always have been. Always will be. Hopeless case, you see?’‘Perhaps not so hopeless. Tell me more about him.’We were out of the city and back on roads I found more comfortable with their reduced traffic and fewer buildings.‘David was a lecturer at my college. He was older than me. He tried very hard not to fall in love with me even though I fell for him at once. He thought it was unfair for someone so young to waste herself on an old fogy like him. His words. But I loved him. God, I love that man! He was clever and kind and good and funny and serious and talented and wise and oh so wonderful. I cried every night for weeks when he left. Every night.’‘Why didn’t you tell him about me?’‘Things were different then, Faith. He wanted so much to make his mark in the world of literature. I’d have held him back. If I’d told him I was pregnant, he’d have been back on the first plane to marry me. It would’ve ruined his chance of the professorship he wanted so badly.’‘But you loved him.’‘Exactly. That’s what love is, Faith. Love is giving the person you love whatever will be best for them, not whatever will be best for you. I knew I’d be bad for him, so I let him go. I’ve never regretted it, but I still hurt. I always will.’‘Did he get what he wanted?’‘I don’t know. That’s the irony. I’ve no idea what became of him. I know he had a book of poetry published in the States. He dedicated it to me and sent me a copy. I’d told him not to write to me as I’d married a jealous man who might hurt me, you see? Heacham thought he was my first and he’d have been furious if he’d known about David. I managed to keep all that from him, thank God.’‘May I read it?’Mum said nothing for a long time but I knew she’d heard me. She concentrated on her driving and I saw her wipe her eye with a fingertip. ‘It’s in my bag. I carry it with me everywhere. You deserve to read it, Faith. Take it. But don’t let any harm come to…’‘Mum, it’s obviously precious to you. I’ll guard it with my life.’She smiled. ‘Not your life, Faith. I’d go as far as your honour, but not your life. It’s a book, when all’s said and done and you’re my daughter, my living reminder of David.’I rifled through her bag and discovered things I didn’t recognize. I thought it better not to ask. The book was quite small. A slim hardback volume with a black cover, tooled in gold. It had been well thumbed.I opened it and found the name and address of the publisher, as I’d hoped. My smile was secret. I had a starting point to make my search for David Lengdon, my real father.

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perf6.000x9.000.indd (Photo credit: stuartaken)You've come all this way, so it's unlikely you'll stop until you reach the end. But, just in case you're impatient for the next chapter, you know where you can buy the book. If you do, please write a review and post it wherever you can - Amazon, Goodreads, any other bookish site. Reviews are what get indie published books noticed, you see.
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Related articles Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 20 [image error]

Procrastination Is The Thief of Time

This small nugget of wisdom flowed from the pen, or quill, of Edward Young, an English poet and dramatist. It comes from his work, Night Thoughts, written 1742-5.
In spite of the age of the quote, it is as apposite and relevant today as it ever was, possibly more so. Today, we are beset by so many more distractions stemming from the things with which we surround ourselves.
I don’t know about you, but I love the act of writing, the process of those words flowing from the ether via my brain and fingers to the keyboard. I love it. So, why do I put off the moment when I should start? Why do I find so many other things to do rather than engage in a pastime that I love?
It’s irrational, isn’t it? And I pride myself on being rational. But, perhaps this is the issue. Writing isn’t generally a rational process, especially if writing fiction, which is my favourite genre. Writing fiction requires an engagement with a level of fantasy, mixed with elements of reality, of course. But that necessity to dwell in the world of fantasy removes the writer from the rational world. And, perhaps, it is the need for this move into the creative sphere that allows the writer to lose sight of the need for discipline.
Creativity is a delicate affair. It’s necessarily subject to influences beyond the reasoning mind. An engineer, that most grounded of imaginers, can create a working machine that depends on the laws of physics and the use of pragmatism, but the leap of faith that raises a standard machine to the level of brilliant invention depends almost entirely on intuition. For those of us who are artists, in all fields, imagination is the prime driver of our creations. So, it’s hardly surprising that we can be deflected from the work of exercising that difficult to define aspect of ourselves by qualities that are more easily identified. What I’m saying here is that when we create, we take risks, and human beings are generally resistant to risk. We risk being made to look foolish in the eyes of our peers, and, more importantly, being made ridiculous in our own eyes.
So, we engage in activities we can rely on, activities that require little risk. I find myself drawn to answering emails, engaging in social chat on Facebook, promoting various stories via Digg, StumbleUpon and LinkedIn. I will respond to those connections made via Pinterest (there’s an addictive social grouping if ever there was one). And whilst I’m able to convince myself that this activity has some value in that it spreads my name wider and increases my online visibility, I know deep down that I am merely putting off the moment when I must put my fingers to the keyboard and produce some new combinations of frequently used words. I have no real grounds for fear in this regard: I am frequently able to sit down and produce a story with absolutely no planning. So, I have no experience of being blocked to prevent my getting on with it. Similarly, I seem to be able to draw ideas from the ether so that I am rarely short of things to write about. So, what stops me from actually getting on with it?
I think part of it comes from a perceived need to start with a clear desk: I hate clutter, both material and intellectual. So, I’ll find excuses to clear actual objects - writing magazines awaiting responses to articles, details of writing contests to transfer to my Writing Contests page on this blog, unanswered emails that require a considered response, messages on social sites like LinkedIn and Facebook. I pretend I have a need to clear these items before I’ll be ‘ready’ to do some writing. This is so, even though experience tells me I can get out of bed, sit down at the keyboard and write straight away, regardless of ‘stuff’ piled on my desk or in my Inbox.
So, is it laziness? Is my subconscious just playing games with me and pretending it doesn’t want to do the work, kidding me that the other stuff is more important?
No, I think it’s almost entirely a combination of discipline, or the lack of it, and organisation, or the lack of that as well. Because of this, I’ve developed a Time Chart in which I’m recording the time I spend on each task during the day. I hope this will show me just how much of my time is spent doing things I really don’t need to do. I have always held that the most precious resource we have is time. If I discover I’m wasting that one thing we can never recover or replace, I expect it to have a salutary effect on my behaviour. I’ll let you know the outcome of my little experiment.
In the meantime, I invite you to think about how you procrastinate and what things get in the way of actually creating. Please share your experiences and thoughts in the comments space below. You know you want to; after all, it’s a way of putting off that moment when you’ll have to face keyboard or pen and paper and actually construct sentences with words, building paragraphs and finally chapters and, maybe, even a novel!
Related articles The Dangers of Distraction. Procrastination Perfectionism - Are you going to let those two words get the better of you? On Procrastination Top Six Ways to Procrastinate as a Writer [image error]

Erotic Anthology Published

After many delays and obstructions, I've finally managed to get my collection of erotic short stories published. I'm offering all readers here the chance to obtain a FREE copy (normal price is $2.99). But you'll have to be quick off the mark; the offer ends 10 June. And, I'd appreciate a review, please.
How do you get one?
Follow the blog, or follow me on Twitter, or 'Like' my Facebook page. Links are here on the blog. Then use the 'Contact me here' link just above to let me know your email address and I'll send you the code and link you need to obtain a free copy via Smashwords. The ebook can be downloaded in a format suitable for any ereader. If you don't have an ereader, you can either read it in PDF form (there's a link to a free PDF download at right), or on Kindle for PC (or Mac), both of which are free on the Amazon site for your country of residence.  USA here.  UK here.
So, what does the book contain?
8 stories:
Hunky heroes and hot women inhabit the beds, cars, beaches and other scenes in this anthology of erotic stories. You'll find exotic locations and beautiful people coming together to excite, arouse and satisfy you as you join them in their journeys from meeting to merging. The attraction is heterosexual and the outcomes mutually orgasmic, so, whether you're a male or female reader, you'll find something to satisfy your dreams here. Lurking amongst the steamy stories, you'll discover a BDSM piece and an adult fairy story that should work well as a bedtime story.
Come in, enjoy alone or with the partner or partners of your choice. All welcome. 




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