Tag Archives: new books

A Charming Child: guest post by the inestimable Tallis Steelyard #newbooks

What can I say? We have a guest, my writer friend Jim, Webster, along with the inimitable, the one and only Tallis Steelyard who is here to tell us a little tale. Thank you Tallis and Jim, for stepping in and giving me something to share with everyone at the end of a week when gastroenteritis has left me short. On you go, Tallis.

—o0o—

A Charming Child.

Having your illusions shattered can be hard at times. One clings to them with the tenacity of a shipwrecked sailor who grasps the spar with a death grip. They are all you have to help you navigate the storms of life. But one has to be brave and when the evidence is presented, one has to admit the new reality into your life.

Thus one evening, as I dined with Shena, my lady wife, and Mutt, I learned something new. Now Mutt is aged about ten and has accepted some element of domestication to become Shena’s employee. That being said, he has his own extensive business interests within the city, and appears to maintain a group of street children who look to him as their master and provider. As we ate I commented that Avia Hassenbut was a charming child. Mutt just looked at me as if I were a total idiot and said, in terms of obvious admiration, “She’s devious is that one.”

This surprised me as Avia and Mutt hardly move in the same social circles, but there again I have learned never to disregard Mutt’s comments. So I asked him to elucidate. The story he told struck me as so far fetched that I felt the need to check the facts. Alas it is largely true, and it is this largely true version I shall now recount.

It seems Avia had taken against her nurse. Whether she felt that at the advanced age of eight or nine she ought to have a governess I don’t know. Perhaps nurse had in some way crossed her, but Avia decided that nurse must go.

Now a lesser daughter would undoubtedly have approached her father, wheedled and pleaded, and achieved little. But Avia was cut from different cloth. She was prepared to plan. The first thing she did was look at her potential assets and allies. She turned her attention to Dame Ballot’s School for young persons of breeding. This was an exclusive academy, by which I mean expensive. Perhaps a score of children attended and were given a solid grounding in the basics, (reading, writing, rhetoric, accountancy, character assassination and social climbing.) Now one of her little playmates was Tonks Valin. He was the son and possible heir of ‘Barbarity’ Valin, extortioner, racketeer and thug. Old ‘Barbarity’s current wife, known universally as Mistress Valin, had decided that it wouldn’t hurt if the family moved up in society and had enrolled Tonks with Dame Ballot. Society in Port Naain can be fluid at times; it’s barely two generations since they last hanged an Oeltang for brigandry. So Avia had Tonks invited to her house to play, and whilst there she introduced him to the litter of puppies that had just been born to one of her father’s hunting dogs. With parental permission, Tonks was promised a puppy and from that point onwards he was Avia’s most devoted servant.

At this point it appears that I enter the picture. Madam Hassenbut was a patron of mine, and one afternoon I was asked if I could keep Avia amused for an hour because her parents had to spend time with lawyers, attorneys and similar such individuals. I realise that this doesn’t really fall within the duties one should expect of your poet, but one does try to help a patron so I agreed. It was a wet afternoon and I kept Avia amused by playing a storytelling game. One of us would start, the other would continue the story, and we’d take turns trying to bring it to a suitable conclusion. Time flew by so fast that frankly I was surprised when Madam Hassenbut came into the room and apologised for being away for two hours. She was generous with both her praise and her silver and I hadn’t got it in my heart to complain.

Obviously I must have given Avia ideas, because a fortnight later I was asked by Mistress Valin if I would organise a children’s entertainment for her. Now let me state, categorically, that I am not a children’s entertainer, I am a poet. But to be honest I have always felt that it was wise to oblige free-spending patrons, especially if they might take refusal badly.

Now I confess to being both surprised and relieved when I discovered that there were only a handful of children, which included Tonks and Avia. I’d dreaded there being a horde of the screaming little beggars. Four or five is manageable. So I sat down and asked what they would like. Avia piped up immediately and asked me to tell them a story.

“Which story?”

She smiled a little slyly and said, “The dark tale of Bethom baby eater and her gang.”

I smiled back. This was one of the stories we’d built up together when we’d played the game, and I’d promised that one day I would show her how to tell it properly. Indeed I quoted one of the ancients to her, “I’ll add plenty of corroborative detail, intended to give artistic verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative.”

So I told the story. I wove it into Port Naain, mentioning places, hinting a people, tying it to dates and places and generally doing the job properly. The children loved it. So, apparently did the adults.

What I haven’t mentioned is that each child (with the exception of Avia) was accompanied by a couple of heavies who acted as bodyguards. They were there purely to ensure nobody got any silly ideas about kidnapping expensive children. They sat around the room, drinking fruit juice and eating cake and trying to look fierce in a restrained and domesticated manner. Of course they listened to the story, and seemed to enjoy it at least as much as the children. Indeed so much were they enjoying it that I brought them into it, tying in details such as the disappearance of Bouncer Queel and the unexplained death of Blabs Joggan.

I finished the story in the usual way. “And so children, even today nobody knows who Bethom baby eater is or who is in her dark gang. But luckily you’ve got such good men to protect you.” This remark had assorted heavies sitting up a little straighter and surreptitiously checking the placement of concealed weapons. Then I concluded with, “Which is lucky really because more than babies, Bethom especially loves to eat rich children because they’re so tender and nicely fed and taste delightfully sweet.”

Personally I thought no more about it, but apparently one of the little horrors had nightmares about Bethom the baby eater. Mother summed a thug to ask what on earth had been going on, and the thug recounted my story. He didn’t do it word for word, or mother would have recognised it as the elegantly constructed tale that it was. No he told it in his own words which made it more real. Mother, not entirely convinced talked to other mothers. Of course they’d all got a similar version from their own hired bruisers and so Bethom became real.

Once Avia knew that the story had spread, she too had nightmares. Hers were more specific. She woke up screaming that Nurse was a cousin of Bethom baby eater. Madam Hassenbut have never heard of this person but thought it wise to check with Mistress Valin. The tale she was told was enough to chill the heart of any mother. When a few simple checks showed that nurse did indeed have a cousin called Bethom, (a ladies’ hairdresser in Avitas), nurse was dismissed with a month’s salary in lieu of notice.

It has to be said that I take a degree of comfort from the thought that by the time young Avia comes into her full powers, I will almost certainly be safely dead. It’ll be up to Mutt and his generation to cope with her. I wish him joy in it.

—o0o—

Thank you Tallis, that was awesome! Jim, do you have anything to add?

I do. You might not realise that Tallis Steelyard has just produced his second book of stories and anecdotes. This is book, ‘Tallis Steelyard, a harsh winter, and other stories,’ is available from the first of June.

The book is available to all discerning readers at £0.99 from
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B071LH1THB

or $1.28 from
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071LH1THB

Were Tallis less busy he’d doubtless remember to thank me, Jim Webster, for the efforts I make on his behalf. But you know what it is with someone like Tallis who is constantly in demand. So I just get on with writing his stuff down for him and from time to time making collections of his wit, wisdom and jumbled musings available for a grateful public.

Tallis does have a blog, it is apparently de rigueur now for all writers. It is available at

https://tallissteelyard.wordpress.com/

Riding in on his coattails I’ll merely mention that my own books can be seen at Jim Webster’s Amazon page:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Jim-Webster/e/B009UT450I

or here: https://www.amazon.com/Jim-Webster/e/B009UT450I

Thank you, Tallis and Jim.

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How not to launch an ebook. The K’Barthan Box Set is out. #Newbooks #KBarthan

Believe it or not, I released a new book today. Unfortunately, I haven’t launched it quite the way I wanted or expected to. It’s been a bit of a stealth launch, but it’s not my fault, honest guv!

You see, on Sunday, my mum was taken into hospital so I drove to Sussex, first to sit with her, and then back to the house to keep Dad company. I drove back to Bury on Tuesday and back to Sussex for the day yesterday. As a result most of my waking hours were spent in hospital, texting and emailing people news, hanging out with my dad and that meant that I had to prepare for the book launch in the hours when I was meant to be asleep. Which means I’m quite knackered now and the book launch has happened in a very minimal way rather than with a bit more … well … you know … gusto!

Mum and Dad are both coping well, although Mum’s still in hospital. She is much better, but the first day, when she was clearly feeling so ill and couldn’t speak, has to be one of the most harrowing days of my life. So, I now have a couple of days’ brief respite to visit the Real World and put my affairs for this past week, and next week, in order while my brother looks after them for a day or two. Then there’ll probably be a second shift for me until we can get Mum home.

What this all adds up to is the fact that, if you weren’t on my mailing list, or watching my author site like a hawk, you probably don’t know a thing about my latest release. So here’s the low down.

9781907809248

The K’Barthan Box Set comprises all four full-length K’Barthan Series novels combined into one huge ebook … for the price of two of the stand-alones. So if you have downloaded the free first book and want to grab the rest of the series, you can swipe all four in one bargain hit. Here’s the blurb:

All The Pan of Hamgee wants is a quiet life.

So why did he have to fall in love with a woman living a different version of reality, upset a murderous tyrant and then run out of places to hide?

Now all he has to do is face his inner demons, rescue everything he holds dear and save the world, or die trying.

Oh yes, and he’s an abject coward.

Great. No pressure then.

The Box Set is currently on sale £6.99 ($7.99 in every type of dollar: US, CA, AU, NZ). So, if you think you’d like to treat yourself, here’s where you can find it:

Apple UK
Apple USA
Apple AU
Barnes & Noble
Kobo US
Kobo UK
Kobo CA
Amazon – goes to your local store, wherever you are:
Google Play

Finally, if you want to help, you are welcome to reblog, or share the good news on Social Media, if you do that kind of thing. Just pick your favourite outlet from the buttons at the bottom of this page and share away!

 

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Spectrum is green! My #NewRelease Escape From B-Movie Hell is Go!

Yes, it’s here, that book launch that I’ve been incredibly quite about (not). But at least you can console yourself with the fact that it’s launch day so that means I might finally shut up about it.

Escape From B-Movie Hell is … AVAILABLE! Phnark. Grab it from your vendor of choice using the luscious links on this page:

http://hamgee.co.uk/books/escape-from-b-movie-hell/

9781907809262_Fullcover

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You may choose bath time, or DEATH.

As  you may all know, Escape From B-Movie Hell, my latest book, is about to hit the streets. I am still frantically primping mailshots and generally phaffing about so obviously the ideal thing to happen today would be for something to go so unbelievably, mind bendingly, heroically wrong that the wheels would fall off and I’d achieve absolutely nothing.

But that wouldn’t happen would it? Not unless my life ran like a badly written sitcom with a totally unrealistic plot.

Yeh. You’d better believe it. Of course it did.

This has been the most amazingly bizarre day.

McOther got the 7am train to London. McCat appeared shortly afterwards hopped onto the bed stinking of creosote and left black foot prints all over the duvet. Upside no black footprints on the stairs. Still not sure how he did that but very grateful, all the same. Downside, creosote is poisonous and the way cats clean creosote off their feet is to lick it off.

Oh oh.

There was quite a lot of creosote – admittedly, a bit less than before now he’d left so much on the duvet but still. There was only one thing for it.

“Kitty McCat you have a choice,” I told him. “You may choose bath time or DEATH.”

I’m pretty sure McCat chose death but I overruled him anyway and washed his feet. A process which sounds so simple written down doesn’t it? But which, by dint of him being a cat was not simple and took many minutes. I was soaked by the end and stinking mightily of creosote as well. McCat was a little less stinky, with very damp legs and a lot less gunk on his feet but a lot still there all the same.

Just to throw a little tension into the mix, school run time was looming. And if I was going to get the cat to the vet and McMini to school I had to do something RIGHT THEN!

So I rang the vet and was told to bring McCat in for ‘cleaning’ as soon as I could.

That’s when I looked at my giant cat box and my small car with two seats. No room for cat AND son in car. No other car available, well, there is McOther’s big Chelsea Tractor but I need a wi-fi transponder to drive it and it’s in his pocket. I could get in there and drive to the vets but McOther will receive a phone call telling him someone has stolen his car. And the police will arrest me as I come out. That would make McMini very late for school.Where he was due to be any minute but the longer the cat went with tongue access to creosotey toes the more likely he was to get ill.

But it was OK, a neighbour has kids in McMini’s class and I rushed over and asked if she could take McMini with her lot. Yes. Hoorah! But I noticed they were in uniform. He had his class party today and I thought it was a home clothes day but it seemed I was supposed to send him in uniform with the home clothes in his bag.

Bollocks.

Never mind. With the cat possibly a mere handful of licks away from death there was no time to go home and chance. My son takes at least an hour to put on his clothes anyway. So I hugged him and dumped him and legged it back across the road where I put the cat in the box in car and went to the vet.

I’d called ahead so when I arrived and gave them my name the receptionist called, “The creosote cat’s here.”

Several staff came out to look. I was ushered into a consulting room and the vet confirmed that McSpanner Cat needed more cleaning and that they would be happy to do it for me and just keep an eye on him for the morning.

I left Mr Creosote with them and went Christmas shopping. I bought things for my dad. Handkerchiefs and socks. I looked at all the things he would have liked once and couldn’t cope with now and felt a little teary.

Then I went to home (via the gym). Immediately I got in, the vet rang.

Turns out that McCat had enjoyed a wonderful morning. I think his hosts had enjoyed it too. To wash his feet they put a little warm water in the bottom of a tank so they could stand him in it and lather his toes with swarfiga. He lay down, rolled over and luxuriated among the warm suds. Diva like. On his back. He is such a tart.

When I collected him he was still damp with a couple of bald bits where it got so sticky they had to shave it and wearing a buster collar – or cone of shame as we call it. They told me to keep on him until he was dry. I tried not to mock the afflicted by laughing as I watched him bumping into things, and getting stuck between two chairs as he tried to chase a ping pong ball under the dining table. At one point, he even tried to force the cone of shame through the cat flap.

He failed on that score.

However, he did manage to lick his tail, one back paw and his bum while wearing the cone of shame, a cone he was wearing expressly to stop him from being able to wash himself. He licked the cone of shame a lot too. It was very funny watching him rolling around on his back trying to get one leg round it and into licking reach.

I attempted to take a photo and he looked at me as if to say, ‘Oh no you don’t.’ Then he curled up and waited stoically on the sofa until I left.

He provided some very unhelpful assistance while I made some cakes for McMini’s teachers. Forget the stuff on his feet. He is already the cat version of Mr Creosote the man, a la Monty Python. No food is safe. The cakes proved to be an epic fail. Definitely back to the drawing board on that one – I may as well have let McCat hoover up the mixture the way he wanted to – but first more ingredients required. There is cake mix on the cone of shame.

On the upside, the vet only charged £30 even though McCat was there all morning. Also he is fine albeit a little cowed by his experience. Welcome home Mr Creosote. Like the stuff he walked in, that name will probably stick.

And this is the world of weirdness I live in. At least you can see why my books are strange. Write what you know and all that. And I do.

Now, all I have to do now is put the clean duvet cover on and I’m back to where I was at the beginning of today. A lot of action then, but eff all achieved.

Never mind, if you want to make me feel better, you could always buy my book. If you do it before Sunday you can get it for the knock down price of 99p. If you use the giveaway link, there might even be a free ebook reader in it for you. If you’re interested, you can find links to buy it from the major stores here:

http://hamgee.co.uk/books/escape-from-b-movie-hell/

If you’re not interested… well… I will stop talking about it eventually, I promise. I leave you with a picture of what McCat was probably doing in the bath… at the vet’s.

20150513_131756

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#NewRelease by M T McGuire Pending.

Yep. I bet that gave you a bit of a shock but it’s true. I have a new book out on this Thursday that ever was. AAAAAND I’m running a giveaway as well in which one lucky so-and-so will win a spiffy new Kobo Glo ereader PLUS free electronic copies of all four novels in the K’Barthan Series with which to adorn their lovely new piece of e-bling.

9781907809262_LowRes

The book is called Escape From B-Movie Hell and the blurb goes like this:

If you asked Andi Turbot whether she had anything in common with Flash Gordon she’d say no, emphatically. Saving the world is for dynamic, go-ahead, leaders of men and while it would be nice to see a woman getting involved for a change, she believes she could be the least well-equipped being in her galaxy for the job.

Then her best friend, Eric, reveals that he is an extraterrestrial. He’s not just any ET either. He’s Gamalian: seven-foot, lobster-shaped and covered in Marmite-scented goo. Just when Andi’s getting used to that he tells her about the Apocalypse and really ruins her day.

The human race will perish unless Eric’s Gamalian superiors step in. Abducted and trapped on an alien ship, Andi must convince the Gamalians her world is worth saving. Or escape from their clutches and save it herself.

That’s the book, then. Now for the giveaway. There are two ways to enter and I’m going to tell you about the first today and the second  on Sunday.

So, if you are a fan of my stuff and you have already bought the book, entering is pretty easy. There’s a link in the back – just a click away from the menu – which will take you to the giveaway page on my website. If you are meaning to buy the book but haven’t got round to it I’m keeping it at a knock down price of 99p, about $1.25, until 8.00pm GMT on Sunday 20th December, then it goes up to £2.50 or about US $3.99.

No purchase is necessary to enter the giveaway, and I will give out the direct address to enter in another post on Sunday. I’m just giving folks who buy or have bought the book first dibs. That said, yes, you guys and gals, please do share the link to get more entries – I just wanted to give you a head start as a thank you for actually stumping up cash for my drivel!

If you’re reading this and you haven’t bought the book, but would like to grab it while it’s 99p, links to find it on all the major ebook retailers are on this page here: http://www.hamgee.co.uk/escape.html

The main points again. The giveaway runs from now until 8.00pm GMT on Christmas Eve, 24th December. Anyone who has bought the book gets the link first inside the book but no purchase is necessary. I will give out the direct giveaway link on Sunday 20th December.

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Entrails, Omens, Eggciting News and Eggstraordinary Matters…

Well, OK, not entrails. Moving on.

Big is the order of the day, it seems. Our garden has been surprisingly free of random cats this week, not because of Harrison, who hasn’t had his shots and isn’t allowed out yet. Nope, not Harrison but because of a new random cat arrival.

Big Merv, as I am calling him is a monster of about the size and build I’d expect from the Beast of Bolsover. A true juggernaught of a cat, he is a little lardy but mostly he is just built like a brick shit house. He is a dark brown tabby with a white tummy which he likes to show me at every available opportunity. He is clearly very loved by someone somewhere because he’s a sweetie. He’s also confident, placid and yeh. Huge.

Meanwhile this morning, I encountered another enormity. With the preparation of a birthday cake in the offing I went to the market to buy some extra eggs.  Naturally, I went for extra large, in which there was this.

IMG_1541

Yes. That’s a chicken egg on the right, the one with the terrible wart. And the one on the left? Well, believe it or not that’s a chicken egg too. All I can say is, I sure wouldn’t want to meet that chicken – and if she’s normal chicken sized then all I can say is, boy, she must have been screaming for an epidural. I bet she was in a bit of a scramble, eggcetera, eggcetera. [no more eggscorable egg jokes: ed]

So here’s hoping that all this bigness of eggs and cats is an omen for big success for the K’Barthan Trilogy… says she, jemmying in a buy-my-book reference with a large crowbar. Ooooof, kadang. Ouch, my toe.

CoverOneManNoPlan

Feel free to buy my books, if you want to and if you already have, thank you. And if you enjoyed them, feel free to tell your friends and/or leave a review in as many places as you like. And thank you to those of you who did.

In the meantime, Book 3 of the K’Barthan Trilogy is out today. I’m afraid it isn’t the last one. There are four books in it. Yes, I count like Baldrick. But there you go. If you’d like to purchase it, you can do so in these places:

In e-book format from…

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Your Local Amazon – wherever you are.
Kobo
Smashwords
iBooks – coming… eventually
Barnes & Noble (nook)

In Paperback format from…

Book Depository
Amazon UK
Amazon US
Your Local Amazon – wherever you are
Waterstone’s

 

One Man: No Plan M T McGuire

The back cover of One Man: No Plan by M T McGuire

 

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