Tag Archives: M T McGuire

Mini Man Says….

This afternoon, McMini approached me with his doctor’s kit and explained that he was going to ‘make me better’. He sat me down on the sofa with his medical case and protective knight’s helmet beside him and got to work. He selected the special looky-in-the-eary-thing. No idea what its technical name is.

“First I will look in your ear,” he says and proceeded to do so.
“Anything in there?” I asked him.
“No.”
“Do you need to look in the other one?”
“No, I saw right through to the other ear from this side.”

I admit I’m a bit of an airhead but not that much, surely. Then he gets out the reflex testing hammer.

“Now I must put on my hat to protect me if bits fly off your elbows. Please roll up your sleeves, Mummy.” He put on the knight helmet and proceeded to tap my elbows very gently with the hammer.

Then he listened to my tummy with the stethascope.

“Mmm. Your tummy is full of bugs. I will have to kill them.”
“Oh dear,” I said.
“Scissors,” he said holding them up. “Open wide.”

Other gems he has come out with include.

“Rain is like wee falling from the sky.”

“If you’re not careful you will get dirty and have purple skin and the purple won’t go away.”

“Turn the lights off please. Thank you. Look! I can see in the dark. It is because I have been eating lots of carrots. I have eaten so many carrots that soon my eyes will pop out and turn red like a dinosaur.”

He is very into dinosaurs at the moment. Last night, he squatted down, looking, to all intents and purposes, as if he was about to have a pooh and started to bounce slightly, humming as he did so. It looked as if he was doing the Mr-Whippy-having-a-crap-joke.

“What are you doing?” I asked, slightly bemused. He smiled up at me and said,
“I am laying my eggs.”
Later I found him squatting down humming but without moving.
“Hello Mummy. Now I am sitting on my eggs,” he told me.

Today we went to a Dr Who exhibition at my local museum. It was great. I’d like to go again, but I doubt I’ll make it. It’s only on for a week but there was a worksheet and a prize draw and I didn’t get to totally fill it in. Mwah ha hargh, no! Not for ME; for McMini.

At the end we spent a lot of time looking at a life size Dalek, one of the really early ones, pre my era (mine are the 73/74 ones). I came under heavy bombardment to buy one of the souvenir Dr Who action figures – the Daleks were well cool but £15 a pop – so I demurred and promised him one when we got home as I have a few spares in my collection of shame.

When we came home, McMini proudly told McOther about the ‘garlic’ he’d seen while I chortled into my hand. McOther didn’t seem to get it. I went and got a Dalek for McMini which he proudly rushed downstairs to show McOther. It was only then that the dear man realised what a ‘garlic’ was. He thought we’d been to the cook shop. Phnark.

Finally… he’s doing phonetics at the moment so he has a song about the letters c and k which he sings. He whispered it very quietly to me in church.

“Well done, that’s great,” I said when he’d finished.
“K, k, k, kite, kit, kate, can’t, CUNT!” he shouted. It was very innocent, he was just making noises but… hmm.

Never let it be said that having kids is dull!

Stop Press: He has just asked if I could show him some “pictures all about onions” on the computer.
“Onions?” I said. “Do you mean Daleks?”
“Yes! Garlics.”

Latest (20:30): Apparently he went upstairs to find McOther shouting, “Extra-erminate!”

He will kill me for this when he’s grown up… 😉

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Few Are Chosen by Awesome Indies but they chose Few Are Chosen!

Booyacka! Few Are Chosen has made it onto Awesome Indies. If you’re wondering why this is such a big deal, just go to their home page and check out the criteria. Mwah ha ha ha hargh!

Baasically, what this means is that to people with professional qualifications in creative writing, the quality of my book is pretty much indistinguishable from something put out by the big six. A cracking endorsement to have. I am very, very happy! Thank you Awesome Indies.

New Additions: young adult fantasy, humorous fantasy & a supernatural thriller.

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It’s World James Bond Day!

It’s World James Bond Day! And, as somebody who was never the same again after watching The Spy Who Loved Me and You Only Live Twice. I couldn’t let it go unmarked. OK so StarWars played a big part too, or at least the fact I saw The Spy Who Loved Me and the first StarWars film, pretty much back to back.

However, this is World James Bond Day so we won’t complicate things with StarWars, suffice it to say that I would probably write historical novels if I hadn’t witnessed George Lucas’ clever way of getting sword fights, which are, after all, BRILLIANT, into a sci-fi film. OK back to the programme… World James Bond Day.

The Spy Who Loved Me is not the best Bond film but it’s the first grown up film I saw, in a cinema… in Norwich, believe it or not. And it had that big base… with all the stuff… and of course… THE LOTUS.

Yes, THIS Lotus. Thank you instableblogsimages.com for the picture.

Let’s face it, that’s a snurd in submariner mode. Proof positive that I didn’t really invent them. Sorry about that. So for all my policy of only writing about things I’ve made up (so nobody can send me an irate e-mail saying ‘how dare you! You’ve got dwarves COMPLETELY WRONG!’) snurds, or at least the idea of cars that fly, go under water, turn into boats, shoot guns, blow caravans out of our path and other things we wished they do, is pretty much public domain. Snurds are just my version.

So after the StarWars Spy Who Loved Me combo, my dolls were suddenly spies with a space base. Imagine how overjoyed my Mum was when she examined the Pippa space ship I’d been taking to school for a week close up and discovered that in pride of place, as the central control panel, was the used Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday-etc blister pack from her contraceptive pill. Suddenly I was gluing wings on my toy cars, buying airfix models of cars and aeroplanes and melding them into… well, yes, even then I called them Snurds.

Every day as I sat, in my Mum and Dad’s classy Peugeot 304 (don’t knock ’em they were brilliant) in the Worthing rush hour traffic (yes, we have rush hour in Worthing) on my way to school, I fantasised that it was Emma-Peel-Lotus-shaped and we were sprouting wings, executing a vertical take off and flying away. I suppose where I differ is that I did expect, at some point, to grow out of fantasising about snurds. But fortunately it never happened.

The year I saw The Spy Who Loved Me was also the point at which I found an old box, wrote “Lotus” on it in biro and started saving up for one. I wanted one of these.

Or do I mean these…?

I finally achieved my dream when I was 33. Sadly, in 11 years, I failed to access the All Purpose Torpedoes and I never found its wings button. I’ve just traded it in for a new one, although I’m afraid, so far, that one doesn’t seem to have a wings button, either.

Lotus Engineering, are you listening? You really need to make a snurd.

If you really like them, you can purchase snurd-related merchandise – and K’Barthan-related but let’s face it, the snurds are the best bit. It includes t-shirts, hoodies, mugs, post cards and the like from www.zazzle.co.uk/drawnbyhand*

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If you thought The Wrong Stuff was the right stuff… and you’re interested. Location photos.

The other day, a fellow forum user on Goodreads, Ignite, said she’d love to know things about my books like, where they’re set, where the ideas came from, a bit about the cover art… that kind of thing. So, taking her words to heart, last time I was down in London I took some pictures of one of the locations.

The RAC Club features in The Wrong Stuff, K’Barthan Trilogy: Part 2, so here are some pictures of the bits mentioned – or at least, the bits that exist. A lot of the RAC Club in my book is imaginary.

The sight that greets Ruth when she walks into the RAC club

The RAC Club, the view up the stairs to the atrium as you come in. So this is what The Pan and Ruth would have seen as they came in and where they would have been greeted by Club staff.

The RAC Club, from in the atrium, looking down the stairs towards the street entrance.
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RAC Club Atrium

This is another shot of the atrium from the first floor but trying to show the glass ceiling. I should think there is very little up there apart from the roof, some water tanks, air conditioning/heating outlets and a lot of pigeon pooh. However, I like to pretend there really IS a roof garden.

The atrium, although we’re actually on the first floor by this time, or possibly the second floor because the atrium itself, above the swimming pool, is sort of mezzanine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s the view of the atrium, looking down at the fabulous carpet and the display of old car(s). This time it was just the one, I think I have seen a pair before. They can be anything from a vintage motor like the one here to rare road cars, rally winners, historic racers or grand prix cars. The only thing they have in common is that they are always interesting. But this is where the display of historic Lotuses in the book would have been.

RAC Club stairs where Big Merv and Lucy argue

The stairs at the RAC Club where Lucy answers Ruth’s phone call from the police station and argues with Big Merv about going to Paddington Green alone.

The RAC Club, stairwell

Here’s a picture of the view upwards… somewhere at the stop of the stairs is where Sir Robin/The Architrave’s apartments are hidden. Although I have to confess that I based the corridors and rooms upstairs on a different London club.

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This week, I have mostly been doing interviews!

I’ve been very lazy these last couple of weeks. Partly because I’ve been running around like a headless chicken BUT I have done a couple of interviews which you can read elsewhere if the mood takes you.

The first one is at Mirabooks, fellow author Mira Kolar-Brown’s blog. So, you can find that one here.
The second is at Jonathan Hill: Writer, Reader, Book Lover which is the blog of fellow author Jonathan Hill and you can find that one, here.

Both were great fun to do with interesting questions so feel free to pop over if you have time.

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It’s a snurd, Jim: but not as we know it…

A light one, tonight. Last week was pants. Sunday my computer hard drive failed, suddenly and irrevocably. Tuesday Chewie, the cat, got ill, also suddenly and irrevocably. The long and the short of that is that I now have a new computer – which is nice but my writing software doesn’t work very well on it and I’d have preferred not to buy one three days before shelling out every penny I have on a new car. The three of us are not happy to find ourselves suddenly ‘resting’ between cats either.

Yeh, not much time to think so it’s a light one tonight. A long time ago, in a galaxy far away, on this post, I wrote about how you should always Google your made up names.

Recently, for interest, I thought I’d try Googling one of the made up names I’d already… well… made up. Hmm…. good sentence that one (not).

Anyhow, I decided to put the word ‘snurds’ into Google and where once it was stacked with nothing but references to my books and pictures of flying cars now I find this… I don’t actually mind at all but I am slightly worried that the Snurds  – or Manchester School of Art – may be upset about their K’Barthan namesake.

Naturally snurd also has a definition in the urban slang dictionary – but then so does everything.

So to clear it up. If anyone is wondering what a snurd is, it’s this:

Or should I say these? Then again only the grey one’s a snurd – the other is the Interceptor and is made by the Grongolian Military rather than The Great Snurd (of K’Barth) Company Ltd – to give it its full title.

Actually, did you know that K. Barth is a mathematician. Nope, neither did I. Although I did find out when I checked – before publishing this time – and decided to leave it. Sorry Mr Barth.

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Is ‘indie’ the new ‘crap’?

Is there still a stigma attached to self publishing?

As an indie music fan, I have always associated the word ‘independent’ with quality. People who have ploughed their own furrow, refused to compromise their artistic integrity and done their own thing. Indeed, I’ve never been a great fan of mainstream music dismissing pretty much the entire lot of it as overproduced shite. The big exception here being Abba and 1960s bubblegum pop but cut me some slack there, everyone needs to flirt with the Dark Side sometimes.

Imagine my surprise, then, to discover that in the world of literature, the word ‘independent’ in many circles is synonymous with the word ‘crap’. Even worse, it can also mean, giant-egoed, self-important drama queen… with delusions about their talent (please god let that not apply to me).

I don’t want to sound chippy but self published authors do seem to be pretty much the literary equivalent of ear wax. Worse, I get the impression that, in many quarters, if it came down to a popularity contest between the two, the ear wax would win.

Then, we move further out to extremes and we have these people who have worked themselves up into a frothy-mouthed frenzy of loathing at the idea that anyone should dare to publish their own book. These people seem to be determined to exterminate any literature which has not been chosen by the beloved gatekeepers from the public domain. I reckon they probably work for them.

So first up. The indie bashers. What I’d really like to know is how these people buy books?

I mean, when I buy a book I go into a shop and have a leaf through and if it looks interesting I buy it. On Amazon, I go to the page, have a look at the preview or download a sample and read it. If I like it I buy it. So when the indie bashers take a break from stalking the Amazon forums, axe in hand, like Jack Nicholson in the Shining, looking for indie authors so they can kill them, what are their book selection criteria?

Clearly they don’t buy them the way I do or surely they’d spot the duffers on the first or second page of the sample. Instead, it seems they purchase without looking so they can be shocked and irate and feel cheated when a book turns out to be crap.

Why does this piss me off? Well mainly because I’ve waited to publish until I’ve written a reasonable book. I’ve had it proof read by professionals. I’ve had a proper cover designed by professionals. I’ve attempted to produce a book which looks and feels professional to the reader and it got an award so it must be reasonably decent. I’m not the only one self publishing who has bothered to do this, there are lots of others. Unfortunately we get lumped in with those selling dross with the aplomb and sensitivity of door to door double glazing salesmen.

However, don’t get smug, indie writers. If the people who are pathologically unable to spot a good book seem thick, you, my fellow authors are the dumbest things that ever walked the earth. With the brains-to-body ratio of a triceratops (look it up) and a sense of self preservation that would make it look smart for Lady Ga-Ga to wear her meat dress in a shark tank.

Oh yes, a lot of you really do seem to be intent on shooting yourselves – and me with you, you smeckers – in the foot. Yeh, I’m raw about it this week.

So here are some please-oh-please-I’m-begging-will-you-fricking-do (and-do-nots) for anyone thinking about publishing their own novel.

1. ‘Wait it is not ready yet’ The Grolsh Novel.
You’ve managed to write 70,000 words with a beginning a middle and an end.

Well done.

Here’s the big news. This is where the hard work starts. Avoid being Grolsch author. If this is your first ever novel, the chances are, ‘it is not ready yet’. Think before you go ahead and publish anyway. Trust me on this, I’ve written three Grolsch books. I really, really wanted each one to be THE ONE but it wasn’t. It took every fibre of self control in my body to demurr from publishing them but I did. Trust me, if I can do it, you can. Experience has now proved that, had I published any of them, I would have destroyed my credibility as a writer and made selling subsequent books that bit harder. I am very, very glad.

2. Think about production.
If you’re going to write a book, do it justice. Spend money on a professional proof reader. Also, don’t get it proofed on paper, trust me, you’ll put more mistakes in than you take out. Er hem, I did anyway. Have it proof read by somebody who will make the changes in the document. Get a decent cover designed by someone who knows what they’re doing. Find out what fonts are popular with publishers, find out how books are formatted and laid out, justification, chapter headings etc.

3. Try to avoid making assumptions about your audience. It’s dangerous.

Some of the things I’ve seen indie authors do on forums are, frankly, prepscholic. Pretending to be other people and bigging up their book, making fake accounts and writing pretend five star reviews. The average 10 year old would consider these moves unsophisticated and beneath them.

This behaviour is very unwise, my paduan learner.

And it’s cheating.

Furthermore, every single one of those bogus reviews chips another tiny piece off the genuine reviews and hard earned reputation of those of us who do have some integrity.

It’s also worth asking family and friends to admit their connection.

4. Avoid ‘exchanging reviews’.
I am pretty gutted when authors offer to ‘review’ my book and give it 5 stars if I do the same in return. No. I’ll review a book and give it however many stars I think it’s worth. Gushing about books you’ve never read or that you’ve enjoyed less than you say damages the integrity of the whole system. It also damages the credibility of genuine, honest review groups.

5. Avoid spamming.
If you drop a 3,000 word essay about how wonderful your thriller is into the middle of a thread about teacups you are going to turn people off. They’re going to remember you as that person who turned up without so much as a nod to the topic under discussion, or even a hello, shouted in their faces for a few moments and then effed off into the ether, never to be seen again.

Are they going to read your book?

No.

6. Make it perfect.
That’s right. You have to, because unfortunately, there are a lot of people self publishing things that shouldn’t see the light of day. That means that even if your book is alright, the automatic assumption of a big part of your audience is going to be that it’s crap and that you are a git. So you almost have to make a better job of it than a ‘proper’ publisher would.

7. Be confident – but not arrogant.
So many people knock self publishers that, if you are one, it’s easy to take it to heart. Also, if you don’t have that vote from a ‘gatekeeper’ it can make believing in your stuff and publicising it very hard. So try not to over compensate. If you’re publicising on forums, I’ve found the best way is to ignore the fact you’re an author for some time and just chat to people. Like real life, you can tell people what you do when you get to know them.

8. Be courteous and professional.
If someone doesn’t enjoy your book it’s allowed. Don’t get into a public shit fight if someone gives it a bad review. Indeed try to avoid shit fights at all.

To sum up, make sure your book is ready, present it and publish it as well and professionally (I hate that word but I can’t think of any other way to say it) as you can. And once it’s out there, behave with integrity and courtesy. In other words, research what your publisher would do, if you had one, and do the same thing only better.

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McMini Says

Some more gems from McMini who is currently hoovering up his supper, or at least, munching it crumb by crumb, at the same speed glaciers move.

He sighed and said, “I have so much to do… I must do driving and eating and measuring and running.“
“That sounds like a packed social agenda.” I said.
“Oh yes I am very busy.”

Then he looked at his toy aeroplane and said.

“That is made in a factory with a machine and then a man puts it in a box and it is sent to the shops for me to buy.” he said.
“Well, yes that is pretty much how everything works.” I said. “Where did you get that from?“
“I watched it on I Can Cook.”

I was quite chuffed that he’s worked out how a factory works from looking at a short segment about packing and shipping bananas.

This morning we were out for a walk and the conversation went something like this.

“Mummy. It’s been raining a lot.“
“Yes hasn’t it? I’m glad it’s stopped now.“
“Yes and the puddles have gone.“
“Yes they have.“
“Where do they go?“
“Well, some of the water soaks away into the ground and some goes up into the sky. It’s the same as the steam that comes out of the kettle when it’s boiling — that’s water too — except there’s not as much so we can’t see it.“
“Ah… I think that’s how rain gets up into the sky, then.“
“Yes, that’s exactly how rain gets up into the sky.“
“Mmm. I see.”

I think he’s probably quite sharp. I quake at the thought of his teenaged years. I will win many arguments when he’s a teenager (not).

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