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Limbo…
A bit of a bum day today. Things have been rather hectic recently – you may have noticed this from the distinct lack of posts but Real Life has thrown me a bit of a curve ball.
As you know, if you read my drivel regularly, my Dad is not too good. He has a heart murmur – actually it’s called something I don’t know how to spell; an atrial affribillation. My Mum, meanwhile has an atrial agitation – seriously I shit you not it is called something along those lines – which sounds like exactly the same thing with a different name. Both are caused by pacemaker cells – the things that make your heart beat. These should give out an electrical impulse all at once causing the muscles around them to contract and your heart to pump. In the cases of both my parents, the pacemaker cells are firing off at different times, causing the muscle to just kind of… jiggle rather than squeeze in a nice neat contraction. This means the blood doesn’t go round the body efficiently.
My Dad is not getting enough blood to the head and is having a lot of short term memory problems. My Mum was his sole carer until recently and her problems have only started up in the last couple of years. They have lots of people round them who love them almost as much as me and bro do but… they’re a long way away.
On Wednesday, I saw them both for lunch and they were on great form, despite the fact that Dad fell over on the lawn. Mum and I got him up and the three of us laughed and joked about it afterwards. He was much more compos than usual, didn’t fall asleep and it was really like a visit to both parents. Kind of a gift.
Thursday morning he fell in the shower. The long and the short of it is that he went to hospital to be checked out, came home and then on Friday evening, had to go back. The daughter of the lovely lady who is officially Mum and Dad’s ‘cleaner’ but is oh so much more than that, had spotted the ambulance and they were both there with Mum and Dad at the time I rang, about to leave. McOther was at a wine dinner somewhere in Cambridge so I couldn’t do anything, anyway, until he got home: E.T.A. half 11.
Lovely lady rang my brother and he went down. This morning when I rang I got the low down. Dad’s blood oxygen is very low but at the same time his heart is racing. This is not a state of affairs that can continue long term. So they may stabilise him, and this may just be another visit to the hospital. Or, it may not. They’ll know more this afternoon so until then, all I can do is wait. So here I sit, preparing the house for dinner as if it’s all going ahead, as if I’m going to be here.
I’ve put the washing away, done the beds, fed McMini his lunch and now I must clean the floors and clear my guff out of the conservatory, where we’re having dinner – or will it be they? I don’t know. It’s the most bizarre disjointed feeling; limbo. Such a normal day and yet, so extraordinary. Preparing to think, to act and possibly even to grieve while, in the meantime, acting; filling my minutes with things to do, so as not to do any thinking. It’s a bit like the time when, as a kid, I wanted to ring my friend in Guildford and forgot the code, I had a bit of a spelling block while looking it up and ended up ringing a woman in Guilford County Armagh. Everything was right and yet… not.
I know that if this one is goodbye, my Dad will want me there. So I have to cue in back up, even though I’m unlikely to need it. I have to make sure I can go, even if the chances are I won’t have to. And so the hours tick by and I wait. Ready but actually, really not ready. Not ready for this at all; though it’s been coming for months and I fear that it might, now, be happening for real.
Between you and me and the gatepost, I feel I’m being a bit of a drama queen. But if I’m not around for the next couple of weeks, you know where I am.
In the meantime, here’s a picture of next door’s cat (Chewie’s Girlfriend, as she’s known to us because Chewie would let her into the garden but no other cats). What on earth she’s seen I don’t know but she’s been staring at that drain for hours.
Filed under General Wittering
Stealth Marketing in the Grand Tradition of the British Navy.
OK, I’ll admit, it’s a tenuous connection, especially in the extremely likely event I’ve got my facts wrong, but there is this lovely story about Admiral Rodney; that he was concerned that the demand of the British Navy for oak trees to make ships was outstripping British supply. He therefore carried acorns in his pockets and dropped them wherever he went. Actually, it may not even have been Rodney who dropped acorns wherever he went… thinking about it, I have a vague recollection that it was some Elizabethan dude…
Sadly I haven’t been able to get a sniff of conformation on this story in connection with Admiral Rodney or anyone else. The internet, usually a rich source of substantiation for such bollocks, is disturbingly mute on the topic. Then again, it might have been invented in Britain but it’s definitely American and the demand for trivia pertaining to European history is probably limited over there. I expect I’d be more likely to find it using Google.fr. Possibly… if I was better at French. Or maybe I’ll have to find “Our Island’s Story” a three book set of the most engaging and charmingly written, albeit ideologically unsound and dubiously jingoistic, version of British history ever produced.
But I digress. The reason I mention it is because in a small way I like to think I am upholding this proud naval tradition… except with flyers and bookmarks advertising my books rather than acorns.
Eyebombing, harmless naughtiness.
Seldom, do I leave the house without my pockets weighed down by promotional literature; two business card sized things for books one and two, book marks for three and four, and a packet of googly eyes – because if my target area proves unsuitable for leafleting, there’s always eyebombing.
Wherever I go, I leave promotional bumpf, printed at bargain basement cost. If there’s a rack, I put them in. I was particularly gratified, after leaving some in a hotel when I arrived for the night a couple of weekends ago, to find that the staff had straightened them all out nicely with the other leaflets when I went to breakfast the next morning. As if they were legit.
It helps that as a 45 year old bag, I can pretty much dump these things where they’re not supposed to be in broad daylight, because I look like an upstanding member of the community who is far to old to do anything furtive, subversive or childish. Even if I’m right there, sticking googly eyes on the back of a builder’s lorry, or walking into Starbucks and laying out my leaflets as if I’m a member of staff, I get the impression that the people who witness it can’t quite believe their eyes or assume my presence there is kosher.
There are other stealthy methods I employ. I leaf through books in the fantasy and science fiction departments in book shops and libraries and slip my cards between the pages for readers to find. I shoved a load into all the Terry Pratchett books in Tesco. I leave them on tables in restaurants and bars, on shelves in stores, slipped behind mirrors in public loos. Naturally I left them on the seat on the tube – on the few occasions I went to London. I slip them under the windscreen wipers of nice looking cars. Indeed, I have not been above sticking fridge magnets with them on to lamp posts in my locale. Sometimes I even leave whole books. I have even convinced myself that all this works because I have been contacted by a fellow who went home and bought both my books after he and his wife started reading a copy one I left on the shelves in Costa.
Perhaps it sounds a bit strange but all this clandestine activity makes me feel better. As if I am at least pushing the envelope, even if I seem spectacularly unable to push my actual books onto anyone.
It’s easy to get disheartened being an author, even about the things that make you happy, so, for example, a while back, an author friend had a book picked as a read of the month on a forum I visit. I was genuinely over the moon for him because he’d missed out for so long. But it also made me feel a bit disheartened because it occurred to me that of the authors I know well, in the cyber sense, on that forum, I am now the only one who hasn’t ever had a book read in the monthly reads thing. Occasionally stuff like that catches me on the hop and makes me churlishly low – even while I’m being delighted for someone else. I suspect it’s because books are very personal things to write so it’s easy to take that sort of thing the wrong way and feel like the kid in the playground nobody wants to talk to.
Well, we all go through these ups and downs but folks, if you’re going through a down like that I proscribe a bit of stealth marketing, or, if you read books rather than write them, try a bit of cathartic eyebombing. Seriously, it’s a hoot and it’ll pep you up in no time.
So anyway, it was with much amusement that I read this post on indie hero recently confirming two things. First, I am not the only one who likes a bit of stealth – he calls it guerilla marketing. Second – tsk – I missed a trick.
I must make myself some stickers.
Filed under General Wittering
You who? You what? You where? You… eh?
Ladies and gentlemen, I have been nominated by the peerless Irish Farmarette a.k.a. Lorna Sixsmith, author of Would You Marry a Farmer, and general Irish mover and shaker, to answer four questions and introduce you to three more authors you might like. I have chosen people with new books due out or out not so long ago. I am particularly impressed that I have managed to pick an Englishman, a Welshman and a Scotsman after being nominated by an Irish woman. There has to be a good joke in there somewhere – but I’ve also added Yorkshire woman to liven things up. Kath won’t be able to answer the questions – because hers isn’t that kind of blog – but as I loved her book she gets a mention anyway. We go from rookie author to seasoned best seller and the stages in between with this lot via four of my favourite blogs.
Right, let’s get started. Here are my answers.
1. What are you working on?
Two things at the moment. First the final tweaks and polishes to the last two books in the K’Barthan Trilogy but also a completely new thing provisionally titled Space Dustmen. I also have a novel sketched out which needs writing up: Saving The World Is Not For Girls, so I’m tinkering with that, too.
However, my seems to require something totally new – and at the same time complicated perhaps it misses the sophistication of a world as fully developed as K’Barth was by the time I was done – and is being pretty insistent. So I suspect I will also trundle off into space with Driff and his fellow space refuse collectors. It’s all very strange but you know how it is, don’t fight it, go with the flow. So I am.
Yeh… that’s three things isn’t it and I said two. Well, I did tell you I couldn’t count.
2. How does your work differ from other stuff in your genre?
Sometimes I’m not sure it has a genre. Well it’s a bit of a mash up but so are a lot of things. It’s probably the only work of petrolpunk, mwah ha hhaargh! Yeh! I made up my own genre for it because I’m not full of myself or anything (snortle). I do tend to find that a line repeated in several reviews of Few Are Chosen, the first book in the K’Barthan Trilogy is, “there is nothing else like this book”. Which is kind of cool. But basically, it’s a humorous science fiction fantasy action adventure with romantic elements in books 2 and 4 – not squelchy bits romance, just a bit of snog action – but there is a love theme… and I’m digging a hole here. Stop.
3. Why do you write what you do?
Because I can’t help it. I know…. but that’s the truth.
4. How does your writing process work?
A very good question. Do you know, I’m not 100% certain. I build worlds in my brain. I always have, and once I’ve exorcised one onto paper I find others are quick to appear in its place. Hence the difficulty I mentioned with the what I’m working on question. I’ve dumped K’Barth for now, so I contain the Huurg Quadrant along with the Threeps, their political and moral system and the viewpoint of a student in London. However, what was three lines of dialogue and a picture of an aeroplane is rapidly coming upon the rails and threatening to turn into my next book. Ahead of the one that’s pretty much already there.
Alright, seriously, the actual process? It goes like this:
- I have an idea. I hear a song or read a science article and that idea starts to ferment quietly in my mind.
- It gathers momentum and the idea becomes a little more than an idea. I start writing stuff down.
- The political system emerges. There is usually something standing in the hero or heroine’s way and it’s usually a slimy no-good politician.
- The characters begin to have names and personalities and I begin to understand the dynamics between them.
- I start to get the major scenes and I write them up.
- By this time, I’m absolutely agog to find out what happens next. So I start trying to work out how to connect them all together and why they connect. This is the point where there will be lots of angst filled posts on here if it goes wrong, because if it does, it’s like watching a film that’s really caught your interest and then, just as it gets exciting, being told that you won’t be able to find out what happens for 6 months.There is often a point, where I have to stop for some time, at about a third of the way in, to let the any plot problems my subconscious mind has forgotten to tell my conscious mind about to resolve themselves.Alternatively, I write several things different ways and end up having to bin about 80,000 words. I did that while writing One Man: No Plan and Looking For Trouble and binned at least 80,000 words; probably more in the region of 120,000. In short I have to sweat blood to whip it into some sort of shape – frankly it’s like having a terrible attack of
constipationer hem, I’m so sorry, “that bloated feeling”. You take some sennacot, sit down with a novel, heave and strain, go puce and then… There’s a bit of a Eureka moment, and, splash! It’s done.
OK now it’s time to single out three other victi– lovely people to answer these questions. In no particular order, here they are:
Jim Webster standing in front of a hedge he made earlier.
Jim Webster.
Farmer, churchwarden, maverick.
That’s the best biog I’ve ever seen. But you may wish to know more, so here’s the longer version.
Jim Webster was born in Barrow in Furness on the 24th March 1956, the same day that Devon Loch fell at the Grand National and Dick Francis turned his attention to writing. With a teacher for a mother and a farmer for a father, Jim was thus able to read before going to school, could drive a tractor by the age of eight and was feeding calves somewhat earlier than that. Since then, he’s farmed, written freelance and acted as a consultant, sometimes managing to do all three in the same day. Jim is happily married since 1985; his wife Brenda and he have three daughters scattered about Northern England. He is immoderately proud of the fact that he has no CV, having been self-employed his entire life.
Jim writes a tip top blog about whatever pops into his head. His books are mostly fantasy, his current series based around the Land of the Three Seas, which are just ace. Don’t take my word for it. Find out for yourself here’s his amazon page.
However, Jim also writes science fiction and his first major release in this respect is Justice 4.1 the Tsarina Sector. If you’ve been paying attention you’ll have noticed he popped in here for a chat about it during his blog tour. Basically, I can’t give Jim enough plugs because I love his books. So do have a look next week to read his answers to the questions. Jim’s fantastic blog is here and the Tsarina Sector Facebook page is here. It’s also for sale on Amazon UK here and US here.
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Will Macmillan Jones. Don’t worry, he’s not chained to those railings.
Will Macmillan Jones
Will Macmillan Jones lives in Wales, a lovely green verdant land with a rich cultural heritage. He does his best to support this heritage by yelling loud encouragement at the TV when Wales plays international rugby. Having been an accountant for much of his working life, he now writes in a desperate attempt to avoid terminal atrophy of his brain. A fifty something lover of blues, rock and jazz, he has achieved a lifetime ambition by extending his bookcases to fill an entire wall of his home office.
Will is best known, or is he notorious, for authoring the renowned Banned Underground Series, which I have thoroughly enjoyed, myself – think Spike Milligan writes fantasy and you’re nearly there. However, he has recently unleashed his inner 8 year old with Snort and Wobbles which you can find on Amazon here or if you’re in the good ol U.S. of A, here. In addition, he writes horror. More on that story, soon but it’s not out yet so I have to keep it under my hat.
Will blogs about a whole plethora of vaguely connected stuff – rather the way I do – and you can find his blog here.
Seumas Gallacher
Seumas Gallacher – genuine kilted man.
As the self-professed ‘oldest computer Jurassic on the planet’ his headlong immersion into the dizzy world of eBook publishing opened his eyes, mind, and pleasure to the joys of self-publishing. As a former businessman, he rapidly understood the concept of a writer’s need to ‘build the platform’, and from a standing start began to develop a social networking outreach, which now tops 15,000 direct contacts.
He writes crime thrillers and the first two, the Violin Man’s Legacy and Vengeance Wears Black are impressively big hitters with more than 75,000 downloads to date. This, he tells us cheerfully, “blew his mind”. He released the third in what has become the ‘Jack Calder’ series, Savage Payback, late in 2013 and is working on the fourth, Killer City.
His blog is an absolute hoot and I highly recommend it. As well as being funny it’s wise, witty and peppered with some very pointy-brained advice. And it’s also written the way he talks, which is in Rab C Nesbitt-ese because he’s from Govan. You can find Savage Payback on Amazon here and on the US store here. Seumas has just released a book of advice; Self Publishing Steps to Successful Sales, which explains how he went from net virgin to social media guru and seller of many thousands of ebooks in double quick time. You can find his blog with information about the rest of his books and links to buy them, too here.
Kath Middleton – KATH ok, Googlebots? Not Kate.
Kath Middleton, indie author and serious butt kicker for quality independent publishing
Epic reviewer, kicker of monumental butt for quality independent fiction and now author in her own right. Kath is an Amazon top 1,000 reviewer, chicken mother, stone polisher and gardener she even breeds tomatoes…. oh yeh, and she writes books.
Seriously, I kid you not there’s not much she doesn’t do. Her official biography goes like this:
Kath Middleton is no stranger to the writing world, having had several of her short stories published in anthologies and many of her drabbles published online and in ‘Beyond 100 Drabbles’, a collaborative book alongside author Jonathan Hill. ‘Ravenfold’ is Kath’s first foray into longer fiction, a book which she describes as mediaeval noir. Her many hobbies and interests include reading, gardening, geology, archaeology, patchwork and quilting, and keeping chickens. And, of course, she continues to write. Watch this space!
In the few moments of spare time she has, she also keeps a blog, Ignite Books where you can find out what she’s reading. She has an eye for a good book which is handy. She won’t be able to answer the questions because she doesn’t write that kind of blog but I’m nominating her anyway because I want to give her book a plug.
Ravenfold. Kath Middleton’s debut novella.
Kath’s book is Ravenfold is the story of Fourteen year old Romelda Bolt who lives at a time when a woman is a man’s property. Her parents, promised wealth by a local lord three times her age, marry her off. A brutal and bullying relationship is born…
Go and find it, now. You won’t be disappointed. It’s on Amazon UK here and on Amazon US here.
Filed under About My Writing, General Wittering
That’s… quite a thing.
Last week, chatting to some of you lovely peps in my long and tenuously linked to writing post about metal detecting, I mentioned I’d found a strange um… thing. Last beep of the day, heading to the car, I found this.
Yep, and here he is again from the back.
He looks old and close up he looks as if he was once enamelled. I thought he was cool, in fact I reckoned it was a saint and since he had a pen in his hand, at least, I think that’s a pen, I reckoned it was a gospel writer and therefore, a piece of ecclesiastical bling; church ormalou of some sort. Turns out he is a thing called a Limoges Mount. No, it’s not a wrestling position, stop sniggering at the back.
Limoges Mounts were made in, yes, you guessed it, Limoges. Apart from the copper alloy these things were melted onto, all the stuff required to make the enamel was in the soil around the city so enameling was actually quite an obvious choice as an artisan thing for the area.
Limoges also enjoyed a geographical advantage, in that it stood at a meeting of roads, including the popular pilgrims’ route to Santiago de Compostello, and there was a big abbey in the town. So basically, the enterprising locals started making holy stuff, boxes, mounts for crosses etc for the pilgrims coming through the town, or stopping at the abbey on their pilgrimage, to buy. They became known for their quality, indeed at one point, the Pope at the time decreed that every church must have a certain number of enamel things from Limoges (clearly not a fan of free trade and I’m guessing Limoges was his home town).
Things like the battered chap I dug up were probably stuck on the sides of boxes as relief elements in scenes or on the mounts for crosses. The thing that has gob smacked me a little is that the enameling trade flourished in Limoges between 1130s and 40s and 1350 or thereabouts… it became very popular in the 12th century but demand was high and the necessity to mass produce them resulted in a drop in quality. Production finally petered out in the 100 years war.
Like as not he fell off whatever he was mounted on sometime between then and now – during a harvest celebration, I’d guess. Perhaps they had an outdoor service every year… I doubt whatever item he fell from survived the reformation and if it did, I expect the Civil War (there’s an oxymoron if ever there was one) got it on the rebound. I’ll have to see if I can discover more just in case. It might be that the nearby church would have records.
This is all I know so far. That and that he’s quite rare – 7 dug up on the UK Detector Finds Database between 2006 and 2011 – so I have to declare him to my local Finds Liaison Officer… within 14 days… except he’s sick at the moment… next month then. I need to find out what he’s worth, too.
So he’s about 800 years old.
And I dug him up.
Which is a bit of a thing…
Other news. I sent the last two book of the K’Barthan Trilogy off to the Beta Readers today. So it’s off my hands for a month. Well… sort of. I will be listening to Stephen Hawking reading them from inside my kindle to track down any missed words or dodgy commas. Looks as if launch date is going to be June and July then, for deffo. Quite excited about that.
Filed under General Wittering
You what?
Occasionally, I go metal detecting. Thus far, no enormous gold hoards have been discovered on my watch – how surprising – but I do find other things which are far more intriguing.
Most of the things I dig up are unrecognisable; to the point where I’m tempted to throw them away but my eternal optimism that the lump of twisted metal I have in my hands might be ‘something interesting’ ensures I never do, or at least, not until one of the other detectorists, who actually knows what they’re doing, has seen it.
This is probably a good thing if these examples are anything to go by.
A few weeks ago, I dug up a bit of metal that looked like one of those things old people put under the legs of chairs to stop them marking the carpet. This thing (pictured left). I assumed it was part of a tractor, but once again, ever hopeful, I stuffed it in my finds bag and kept going.
At the end of the day, when I looked closely, I realised it had two lines round it and a little hole drilled in the bottom from both sides, which didn’t go all the way through.
You know what this is? It’s the equivalent of one of those plastic medicine spoons. The hole is to keep a pill still – they were round then – the line is to mark out half a dose and the drill hole on the underneath is so it stands steady.
What I find so amazing is that everyone but everyone in the… I dunno, 500, 400 years preceding 1900 would have known exactly what that is and what it’s for. And me 100 years later? No clue.
A couple of weekends ago, I found something else; a huge lump of lead. Again, I assumed it was part of a tractor. Again, I was wrong. 
Turns out it was a hand guard; something people sewing canvas or leather would use, similarly to a thimble, but in the palm of their hand. The ridge is the but you’d put the end of the needle into as you pushed it through.
Almost anyone alive from the Middle Ages to the early 20th Century would know exactly what it is, as instinctively as we know what a car tyre is, or a thimble.
Why was it there? Because everyone in the village would work on the fields and the women folk and kids would come out and picnic there, in the summer. That’s why one of the best places to detect is near the hedge under any old trees, because it’s where the workers’ families would have sat and where they would all have had dockey (elevensies) and lunch.
What amazes me about this is how much of history has been taken for granted and thrown away. I’m sure it’s something most people are aware of. How many times have you gone into an antique shop, seen some kitchen implement and thought, “Bloody hell! I remember using one of those at my granny’s house!”
Well, OK, maybe that’s just me but it does intrigue me how many aspects of our world, which we intuitively understand today, our vernacular surroundings of stuff, if you like, will probably flummox our antecedents. Exactly the same way that the vernacular, every day items of 70, 80 maybe 100 years ago regularly flummox me.
It also amazes me how a learning a few simple things about how our predecessors lived, and finding these unremarkable, vernacular items, illuminates their world. Suddenly it is real, alive and with substance.
So what has this to do with writing?
Well, I suppose, the first thing is my favourite topic, that you can build a rich and complex world with little more than a few hints. That if you give the right information as a catalyst the reader’s imagination does the rest. Second, how fast life and the world moves and how soon things are forgotten. Most of the items I find were in common use from the Middle Ages; earlier in the case of the hand guard, until the early 19th Century. That’s 500 years. 80 years later and I don’t know what they are. Such is the price of progress.
Third thing… how amazing it is to find a truth in history. When the causes and factors behind so many world events are down to interpretation it’s incredible to find things that can be expressed as black and white facts; it’s that and this is what it was for.
And to make the header post for Facebook more interesting, here is a picture of Chewbacca, my cat, who died 18 months ago, sadly but who was very cute.
Filed under General Wittering
Box 010 Results: Number 11 C. E. Martin
Our special guest for the latest Box 010 was C. E. Martin. He writes paranormal military thrillers, including the Stone Soldiers Series. The first book is called Mythical and you can find more details about it and Stone Soldiers on his website here.
So, C. E. Ladies and Gentlemen, after receiving a record number of votes the results are in. I know you are all agog to know what happened so without more ado, here they are.
C. E. thanks to your fine efforts, the world is now purged of these things:
1. American versions of British TV shows.
Yes! Booyacka! It’s going in.
2. Low fat foods.
Which are normally high GI and stuffed full of ‘thickeners’ like corn starch and chemicals. Just what is xanthum gum?
My condolences to everyone who voted for Romance/Erotica novels, which missed going in by the tiniest margin. I like a bit of romance, myself but the porn has caused all of us problems.
C. E. Martin, thank you so much for joining us.
Now you’ve read his rant, why not read a few of his books, here’s a reminder, of where you can find out more about them and stalk C. E. Martin on the internet.
Http://www.StoneSoldiers.info
Http://www.facebook.com/CEMartin.Author
@troglodad
http://www.amazon.com/C.E.-Martin/e/B0089W99VC/
Filed under Box 010
An ad hoc sort of world: Introducing Mr Jim Webster and the Tsarina Sector.
This week, I am mostly featuring a guest post by my good cyber friend and fellow writer, Jim Webster. I have voraciously consumed Jim’s fantasy books and now he is dipping his toe in the water of Science Fiction Whodunnits – is that a genre? I guess it is now – I will be voraciously consuming them an’ all. Jim’s new book, Justice-4-1, Tsarina-Sector will be out soon. You can check it out on his author page at Safkhet – his publishers – here, while his author page on Amazon, which gives you details of all his books, is here.
Right then, take it away….. Jim.
Jim Webster standing in front of a hedge he made earlier.
When I got the idea for ‘Justice 4.1’ I had a world in mind. I’ve read a lot of SF and Fantasy over the years, and I’ve ‘lived’ vicariously in many, many worlds. I wanted mine to be different.
Firstly I wanted the reader to like the world, to feel sympathy for it, to feel as if they might like to live there. After all if I’m writing a book about someone trying to save their world, if you don’t like the world, you are likely to wonder why they bother.
Secondly I wanted the world to be complex. I wanted a range of technologies, a range of lifestyles, a lot of different communities who all had their own rules, mores, cultural norms, but who somehow managed to rub along without too much bickering on the margins. This is something that probably stems from my love of work of the late, great, Jack Vance. He was a master of creating strange but somehow convincing communities and cultures.
Finally I wanted a world that was somehow ‘just getting by.’ Not actual poverty, just a series of hasty improvisations to keep the show on the road. Here I think I was influenced by a lifetime in agriculture. I can tackle most things, but if I ever had to do something properly, using the proper tools and the proper materials and document it properly, I’d be lost. So I ended up with Tsarina, a world that “wasn’t as much colonised as infected by humanity – explored for the sake of completeness and named after the exploration ship’s purser’s dog.”
And the people? Well I long ago learned that there are no ordinary people. Stop and talk to them, walk a mile in their shoes, and you realise that ‘ordinary people’ do extraordinary things all the time. So I assembled my cast from such people, amongst my heroes are insurance loss adjusters, a pop station DJ and a middle aged traffic cop.
And the villain? Surely we’ve got to have a really good villain, dyed in the wool evil, cunning, with subtle plans that will subjugate star systems and bend worlds to his will. Well, here you’re in luck. We have. Probably.
Thank you Jim. I hope your villain is evil, I like a good baddie gah no an oxymorn… but you see what I mean.
You can buy the Tsarina Sector from Amazon UK here and from Amazon US here. You can also read an exerpt right NOW on this blog. HERE!
The flitter was hardly luxurious. It was a spacious workhorse with just enough concessions to comfort to deter personal injury claims from those who hired it. At the moment, it loitered over the northern highlands of the Border Kingdoms at a safe altitude. To their north, the highlands rose steadily until they became snow-capped and were lost in the clouds. Below them was a jumbled badlands of gorges and ridges, twisted rock, frost-shattered and crumbling. Wheeling below them was a pair of great four-winged aradons, keen-eyed carrion feeders. In the distance, perhaps five miles away, Kilonwin Kardoverin could just make out what might be another pair. As far as he could tell, they were the only signs of life in sight. He looked down; even with vision enhancers, the ridges showed virtually no sign of life. He counted three stunted bushes with occasional blades of grass poking through the loose scree.
Kardoverin strapped himself into the co-pilot seat and fiddled with the camera array, determined to get as much footage as possible. Kardoverin had a reputation in the industry as one of the best documentary makers in the sector. This reputation was based on arrogance, a casual disregard for personal safety, and painstaking camera work. He was reputed to get five times as much material as was needed, even for top quality holo work. He turned to the pilot. “Can we get lower? I’d like to film into those gorges.”
“Why?”
“Well, there’s damn all up here.”
“Why not zoom?” The pilot sounded nervous.
“They’re in heavy shadow.”
“Look, this is the Border Kingdoms, it isn’t safe.”
Kardoverin adjusted the central rig and raked the peripheral arrays so that they covered both flanks.
“Take us down fast; we’ll be through and out.”
“They’re barbarians! They shoot at people.”
“With black powder weapons.” Kardoverin’s tone was dismissive as he checked the satellite relay. It seemed to be working perfectly. “Look, just go in, one quick fly-through. It isn’t as if I’m asking you to land, or even hover.”
The pilot muttered something blasphemous under his breath and brought the flitter round. “I’ll take us up that gorge on the left, it’s narrower. Being so overcast, it’s less likely to be inhabited.”
He opened the throttle and brought the bow of the flitter sharply down. The clumsy craft accelerated rather faster than Kardoverin had expected, and he hastily checked the camera focus. This model of vehicle was effectively a rectangular box which flew and had little consideration of style. But for his purposes, the open top meant it had been comparatively easy to fit the cameras. The pilot brought them down sharply, heading south, gaining speed as he lost altitude. Then suddenly, he spun the controls and the flitter turned and banked so sharply Kardoverin felt himself hanging in the harness. Then the pilot pointed the nose of his craft straight into the mouth of the gorge, still dropping and gaining speed. As they entered between the towering rock walls, they were barely twenty feet above the ground and moving faster than Kardoverin would have believed possible. Kardoverin kept his eyes on the monitors, running his fingers over the controls in front of him, altering the zoom, the angle, the filters. They were deep in the gorge now and the boxy craft was travelling at breakneck speed. Kardoverin constantly re-adjusted the controls. “Isn’t this a bit fast?”
The pilot’s answer came through clenched teeth. “If I could go faster, I would. I want us out of here and—” He paused. “Oh hell, we are in deep—”
There was a staccato rattle of automatic weapons fire from one side. The burst struck the pilot, jerking his body against the seat harness. Kardoverin tore his gaze from the monitors and looked towards where the noise had come from. The second burst hit the front of the flitter, and the engine began to whine. Kardoverin frantically unbuckled his harness and stood up to reach over the pilot’s body for the controls. The third burst struck him in the chest, spun him round and left him draped over the side of the flitter. Thirty seconds later, with no one at the controls, the flitter struck the rock wall of the gorge and exploded.
Wow. So, that was an excerpt from Justice 4.1 The Tsarina Sector. If you would like to find out more or stalk Jim on social media you can do so in the following places:
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Amazon: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Jim-Webster/e/B009UT450I/
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Safkhet publishing: http://www.safkhetpublishing.com/authors/Jim_Webster.htm
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Blog: http://jandbvwebster.wordpress.com/
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Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/TsarinaSector
Amazon.co.uk: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1908208236/
Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/dp/1908208236/
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