Richard Murray's Blog, page 6

Romance Question.

Adult fiction and specifically Romance books have either male/male female/female or male/female leads and pairings.

In every other genre the romance is most likely secondary or just a smaller part of the main plot. These other genres usually have male/female leads.

This being the case I have a few questions I hope you lovely people can answer.

If you are interested in same gender relations:

Does the male/female lead put you off the book?
Do you specifically look for books that are geared towards the gender/gender pairing that you are interested in?

If you are interested in male/female relations:

Would you be put off reading a book where the pairings are male/male or female/female?
Do you specifically avoid books that are geared towards the gender/gender pairing that you are not interested in?
If a secondary character is interested in whatever gender/gender do you dislike how little or how much of the plot they may participate in? Would it put you off to read that the secondary character is in a relationship?

Thanks for reading.

Night Terrors

I could hear it again, up in the attic above my room. The scritch, scratch of claws as the creature moved in lazy circles around the hatch. Occasionally the sound would stop for a few moments and then I would hear a huff of expelled breath before the beast would begin to walk once more in a circle.

                If I were a braver soul I would climb from my sweat soaked sheets and retrieve the stepladders from the hallway outside my room. I would place them beneath the hatch and I would climb up and push on the wooden board that blocked the opening.

                Then I would reach into the oh so dark attic space and pull the cord that would turn on the light, before raising my head through the hatch and peering around the attic to see once and for all that no creature resided within.

                But I am not a brave soul. Instead I lay each night in my room and listened to the infernal creature as it seemed to endlessly walk in a circle around the hatch, seeking a way down.

                In the morning I would once again ascend the stepladder and search the attic for any sign of the beast that I heard every night. I would find dust and cobwebs undisturbed, no deep gouges in the wooden joists left by claws.

                The attic would be empty of all but spiders and of course the odds and ends of life that had been left up there. Once again I would descend and chide myself for the foolishness of the night before.

                I would go to work and laugh with friends as the terrors of the night faded away. I would return home at the end of the day and eat a meal for one in front of the TV before weary from a day at work I would seek my bed.

                Once in bed I would lay, waiting for the infernal scritch, scratch of claws above the ceiling and just as I am about to fall asleep it would begin. The first huff of breath at the hatch, followed by the scraping of the claws as the creature circled once more seeking entry.

                Night after night this cycle would continue and I would listen to the creature move around. Sleep would elude me and I would wish that I were brave enough to open the hatch. Perhaps one day, but not today, not now.

                It slowly dawned on me that the sound had stopped. No huff of breath, no scratch of claw against the timber that formed the attic floor. I stared fearfully at the ceiling and wondered what had caused the beast to cease its endless walk.

                From beyond my door came the scritch, scratch of the creature as it walked across the hardwood floor of my hallway to pause outside my room. I stared at the door, goosebumps raised on my arms and my heart beating fast.

                I heard the huff of breath expelled as the creature examined my door and watched with horror as the door slowly swung open.

News

Well it has been 23 days since I last posted and about that long since I self published my very first book.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00KDQZHO0?*Version*=1&*entries*=0   (Shameless Self Promotion)

So in that time I have sold around sixty books. Now that isn’t a massive amount at all, but for an unknown author with a 40k word book, to sell sixty books in less than a month is not bad at all.

I am really pleased with how it is doing and most importantly, the people who have read it and know me, have told me they enjoyed it. That includes my father and best friend, both of whom are very much lovers of books and reading in general and both are forthright enough to tell me if they hated it.

I have had five reviews and to be honest, two of them were -unsolicited- reviews from people who know me. The other three were not, and they still said nice things.

In the last 23 days I haven’t been idle either. I am 45,000 words into the first draft of book two, which I think will finish around the 50k word mark. I will also – this weekend – be working on a short story that I shall publish and release for free or at least as cheap as I am able, that will be quite important.

Now to understand why it is important I must explain a little about my story. The main person in the story is Ryan, the serial killer. The story is told with his words as seen through his eyes. This is an interesting way to tell the story because I have to do it in character and this character is… different. I have to balance providing enough detail about things and people to be able to paint a picture and my main characters lack of the basic interest in those very same people and things which can make telling the story difficult at times.

Ryan is tempered by Lily who is pretty much the opposite of him. She cares about other people and while she does know about Ryan being a killer, she accepts it initially because all hell is breaking loose with the Zombie Apocalypse and the two of them realise that they need each other to survive in the new world.

So since the story is told from Ryans viewpoint, with little social skills and ability to read other people, I felt it would be interesting to do a short story from Lilys side. It will be about what she is doing as the Zombie Apocalypse starts and how she meets Ryan as well as her reasoning and decision to stick with him to survive.

This will be an interesting project because her viewpoint will be miles distant from Ryans and the task of showing that is something I am looking forward to. The nearly ninety thousand words I have written from the viewpoint of Ryan will have to be forgotten as I learn to write from the perspective of someone who does care and indeed care deeply about others.

Until the next time,  Rhayn.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0...

http://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B00KDQZHO0?*Version*=1&*entries*=0

Hey all.

 

This is my first copy of my book. It is small and ever so special to me, but feedback has been good so far.

Please feel free to check it out.

 

 

The Longest Journey.

This is a story that I wrote for my daughter. It is at least in part based on truth and what I hope actually happened.

 

Today would be an exciting day. Her work was finally complete. With the flick of a switch she would turn on her machine and everything would change. She walked into her laboratory with head held high and a bounce in her step. A large grin crossed her face as the excitement grew.

                This project had been years in the making. Tens of thousands of hours, endless weekends that she could have been spending with her family were instead spent in the lab. It was finally worth it though.

                With a sigh she glances around her lab, noting the clutter. The textbooks left carelessly spread along the wide bench that stood against one wall. The whiteboards that covered three walls and each and every one of them filled with notes and equations. Stacks of paper were spread around the room. Each of the stacks containing the various pieces of a puzzle, that was about to be solved.

                The centre of the room was dominated by the machine. Great thick wires crossed the floor leading towards the computing array in the next room that would control it, or down through the linoleum tiles to connect into the main power lines.

                Her machine sat on a wide base. Two towers stood at the east and west sides, four feet apart and eight feet high. Their tops touched the ceiling. Along the side of each tower were the emitters. Each tower had six emitters that each pointed towards the opposite tower.

                She sighed and pressed her hand gently against the delicate towers, she could feel the cool of the metal along with the faint vibration that told her that her machine was ready and waiting. It was an equal match to the restless energy that surged through her own body. A final look over her machine and then she crossed to the terminal that controlled it.

                Her fingers moved swiftly over the keyboard with long practiced familiarity. The start-up sequence of the machine involved a laborious hour of work. Inputting the commands, checking and rechecking the calculations aware that one single incorrect press of a key could destroy a lifetimes work.

                Finally she was done. The machine hummed louder, seeming to share her excitement and urging her to press that last key and send that final command. With trembling fingers she stabbed down at the keyboard.

                Light and sound filled the room, emanating from the machine. She stared as long as she was able but finally had to glance away and shut her eyes as the white light grew too bright. The hum became a roar and as she stood with eyes closed tight she imagined that perhaps within that sound she could hear the universe voice its protest as her machine bored its way into and through the very fabric of creation.

                The sound and the light both faded and she realised that she was crouched behind her desk, hands pressed over her ears and eyes aching from the strain of being too long held tightly shut. Cautiously she lowered her hands and then opened her eyes, blinking rapidly at the tears that came with the return of too much light too soon.

                She slowly stood and looked across the room, almost afraid to see that her machine had done its work. Heart beating fast she gasped with relief as she sees the two towers standing tall and between them a scintillating oval of light. It had worked. She wanted to leap with joy and laugh until her sides ached. Giddy with relief she checked the terminal and found no errors.

                She crossed slowly towards the machine. The swirling oval of light was made up of tens of thousands of small sparks like fireflies, all flying around one after another as they orbit the space within the centre. She reaches out a hand eager to dip her fingers into that stream of light.

                A tingle crosses her skin where the light falls on and then through her hand and a smile fills her face. Her thoughts race, images of the awards and the admiration of her colleagues. The possibilities for her machine are endless, the future stretched wide before her filled with everything she could ever possibly want. That would be for tomorrow though. Today she had one very important thing to do. She braced herself then stepped forward and was engulfed fully by the lights.

                Strange sounds reverberated around her head. Colours that she had not known could even possibly exist flashed before her as she pushed through to the centre struggling against the natural resistance of the universe. With the machines work though, that resistance was not enough to stop her. She reached the centre and then stepped through.

                The first thing she noticed was the cold. It raised goosebumps on her skin and her breath frosted in the night air. She hadn’t realised how cold it had been that night all those years ago. She berated herself for not bringing a coat before looking around as she hugged her arms across her body.

                She was in a dark alleyway between two large shops. Cigarette butts and food cartons littered the floor. She had forgotten how dirty everyone had been before the people had learned that they couldn’t pollute the earth so carelessly. She moved towards the end of the alley, her boots clicking on the pavement. She glanced behind her, the portal was not visible but she could feel it. She did not belong here in this time and place. The universe wanted her to return and as she walked she could the gentle pull of the opening as it tried to call her back. She would return soon enough, first though she had a task to do.

                As she walked through the town memories rushed back. She had of course been much younger but it had changed so much over the years. It was late enough that the majority of shoppers had gone home for the day, but not late enough for the weekend drinkers to be out in force. She walked with purpose towards her destination, fighting with each step against the pull of the portal and the memories of times long past.

                The building she came to was large and imposing. It filled a large space before her. It was small by her times standards, merely four stories. The top three stories held parking spaces, whilst the ground floor had one entrance that bright light spilled out of. She headed towards the entrance.

                Laughter and music greeted her as she walked into the building. Young people stood in groups talking together loudly. She noted with amusement that they listened to music on their phones of all things. She had forgotten that people once did that. Past the youths the building opened into a wide space. A single room with the far wall made entirely of glass windows and automatic doors. Single and double decked buses came and went from their terminals.

                She walked along the stands looking for one in particular. The people around her felt strange now. She was unused to the style of clothing, the loud voices and the argumentative drunk being escorted from the building by security. She found the stand she was looking for and took a seat as she waited for the bus to arrive.

                Fifteen minutes past the hour, the automatic doors slid open. A young family stepped off the bus and walked through. The two young girls arguing fiercely as the mother repeatedly told them to stop. She smiled at the sight and thought of her own child who had no siblings and few friends. She shook her head at the thought before standing and walking on to the bus. The driver gave her a disinterested look and tiredly asked for her destination.

                She had been prepared for this and her pocket held numerous coins of this time period. She placed two of the larger value coins into the drivers waiting hand and named a street towards the end of the bus route. The destination didn’t matter as she wasn’t planning on taking the journey anyway. She just needed access to the bus.

                The driver handed her a ticket and she carefully placed it into her pocket. A memento of the evenings adventure. She walked down the centre aisle of the bus towards the back. Her memories were hazy at this point but she recalled enough to know that she needed to be at the back.

                As empty as it was, she still felt uncomfortable as she reached the back of the bus and went down onto her knees. She peered under the seats along each side before her gaze came to rest on the item she had come so far to find. She reached beneath the seat, heedless of the grime and picked up her prize.

                A fresh surge of joy filled her. She had accomplished her task, she had travelled so far and worked so hard finally had found what she sought. She pulled herself to her feet and swiftly walked to the front of the bus and out of the door.

                The walk back to the portal passed in a daze. She caressed her prize and considered what she would do when she reached the portal. She had some concern that the portal would resist her pulling through an item of this time and place. She turned into the alley and walked nervously towards the portal she could feel and not see. She tentatively reached out a hand that contained her prize. There was a resistance at first but with firm pressure she was able to push the item through and followed along behind.

               Back in her lab she slowly shut down the machine. It would of course need more testing to ensure it was in fact truly safe to use, but that held little interest for her. She had accomplished her task, she had created the machine. It had been built with one purpose and with that purpose done, she would show it to the world and then let the world deal with it. She picked up the precious item and placed it into a firm plastic box for safety. She lifted the box and headed to the door, ensuring she turned out the lights.

                When she arrived home it was late. Her partner was sat quietly working on some project on a tablet. She gave him a kiss and a greeting before heading to the second bedroom of her small apartment. She pushed the door open an inch and peered within.

                “Mummy!” her daughter cried with delight.

                A smile came. Her wilful daughter should be asleep, but she couldn’t really admonish her. She hadn’t spent as much time as she should with her beautiful child and she was so young and had so few friends. She stepped into the room and walked across to her bed. She reached down and gave her daughter a long hug before sitting on the bed beside her, the plastic box placed gently at her feet.

                She spoke with her daughter for a few minutes as the little girl happily explained all that she had done at her nursery. Finally the little girl noticed the box. “Whats that mummy?” asked her daughter.

                “That is something really special. It has come a very long way to be here. Would you like to see it?” She asked with a smile at her daughters eager nod.

                She lifted the box and slowly opened the lid. Keeping her gaze firmly on her daughter she reached within and tenderly grasped the item, before taking it out of the box and putting it gently on the bed between them.

                “Is that for me?” her daughter asked as she looked with wide eyes at the small plush grey and black tabby kitten that sat before her.

                “It is” she said. “It has a story too, would you like to hear it?”

                Her daughter nodded as she picked up the little stuffed animal, turning it over in her hands as she inspected it.

                “This little cat has a name. Her name is ‘Kitty’” she began. “When I was a very young girl, little older than you Kitty was my most favourite thing in the whole world.”

                “But it doesn’t do anything” said her daughter with disdain. “All of my toys do things.”

                “No. You are right Kitty doesn’t have any special gadgets. She has no electronics that allow her to talk, or walk. She wont tell you stories or sing you to sleep.” She agreed.

                “Then how could it be your favourite?”

                “Kitty was my friend” she said simply, memories of rising to the surface with painful clarity. “When I was sad or alone I would hold her and I knew she loved me. I could tell her my secrets and hold her close when I couldn’t sleep.” She couldn’t help the tears that formed.

                “When everything else went wrong in my life, Kitty was there for me. She gave me comfort and love. Then one night I was on a bus and returning home from visiting my grandmother. I remember that night that I was arguing with my sister and somehow Kitty got left on the bus.” She said as the tears fell, the memories even now were painful. Her daughter clasped the little stuffed cat to herself.

                “I cried for a long time, even though my daddy looked for her he couldn’t find her.” She wiped away a tear. “I know now why she couldn’t be found of course” She said with a smile.

                “Why?” asked her daughter in a soft voice.

                “He couldn’t find her because she had something to do. Kitty had realised that I was growing up and wouldn’t always be able to be there for her like I used to be. Kitty knew that if she waited on that bus in the dark beneath the seat and wasn’t afraid, that someone would come for her. An old friend who now had a daughter of her own, a daughter who would perhaps need the love and care that only Kitty could give.” She smiled at her daughter. “Kitty knew that even though your parents love you sometimes a little girl needs a friend they can love, so that is why she came so very far to find you.”

                Her daughter held Kitty up before her and gazed at her for several long moments as she considered. Finally a smile came and she pulled Kitty in close for a hug. “Thank you mummy, I promise I’ll look after her” she said.

                “I know you will beautiful child. Kitty will look after you too, and one day when you have a child of your own Kitty will be there for them as well. To give them love and comfort when they need it most.” She gazed down on her child holding on tightly to that little cat that she had loved so much as a child and knew that despite any accomplishments and accolades that her creation of the machine would bring, this was the only prize she would truly care about.

 

               

Editing

The first draft of my relatively short story, a mere 40,000 words or so which will be around 200 pages in e-book format has been completed. It is an amazing feeling even to have completed that many words, though I am well aware that many full length books will be twice that number.

I have completed the first draft in around 18 days, which doesn’t seem that many. That is just the time of actual writing though. Much of the preparation and research was done well in advance. As I look back over the last few weeks and mentally tot up the actual number of hours I have spent on this – still small compared to some – project, I realize it is actually quite a bit of time that has been taken.

The first two weeks of the project I was still at work. By the time I had finished work, fed my daughter and spent a little quality time with her before she disappeared upstairs into the dark abyss that is her room, I was still putting in six or seven hours a day. With the pleasant weather we have been experiencing here in the UK and the week off work I have had to coincide with the school break, I have rarely seen my daughter as she played out with friends which allowed me to spend upwards of twelve to fifteen hours at a time writing and re-writing.

In total I would imagine that I have spent more than 100 hours just writing, editing and re-writing. With my average 60 wpm typing level that means I should have written around 360,000 words in the 100 hours. An astounding 9 times more than I currently have.

Either way I am pleased with how it turned out and I have now passed it over for review to my editor, commonly known as my “mother”. I have asked her to be blunt and honest with her review and knowing her she shall be. I will wait nervously to hear from her. Any future writing I do will hinge on her words. I can honestly say that showing your work to someone you care about and respect is probably the hardest thing about this whole process.

 

Writing

Well I am 21,000 words into my story now. I have just finished the first draft of chapter seven and tomorrow I will be waking up bright and early to start chapter eight.

So far I have been largely enjoying the process of writing out this story. It seems to be flowing nicely and I look forward to having the first draft completed. I will then get a little bit of time to have a break and work on some other things before going back and editing and rewriting.

This is my first big project and I am very much aware that it may not be very good at the end, but I will be able to say “I have written a book” whether it is ever published or not. I will still have done it and know that I can commit to a project for the length of time it takes to write sixty to eighty thousand words, let alone the research, rewriting, editing and all the other minor little things that are involved.

It will be, like so many things in life, a learning experience. One that I hope will help improve my writing skills.