Tag Archives: writers

Are you talking to me pal?

Is staring at something you’re trying to find for ages, without seeing it, a super power? I don’t know but it’s probably the closest I’ll get.

Does he have a better short-term memory than I do? Very probably.

You can read some wittering about that and other ideas in this week’s bit of light fluff. It’s an interview  over at Katherine’s Corner. Yes, I’ve been bending someone’s ear again. This one is part of an ongoing series of author interviews comprising two sets of questions; one frivolous and one sensible. The author being interviewed has to answer both, although in my case, there’s not really much difference between the two. You can find some witty and interesting answers from other authors on the blog here and you can read my attempts at the end of the links below.

Sensible

Frivilous

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At my back I always hear time’s winged chariot hurrying near…

Twenty one years ago, when I was 25 – yeh I see the smoke coming out of your ears as you do the maths – a good friend from University was killed in an air crash. She was lively, fun and when we graduated – in the middle of a deep recession – she was one of the few people I knew (I was the other one) who didn’t carry on and do a Masters Degree (no chance of a job so I may as well get another qualification) or just take one look at the job market and do law. Never one to conform, was Sharon, she started to design and make jewellery, instead. I signed on as a temp with a firm of contract cleaners – not quite in the same league. You can see who had the get up and go there can’t you, phnark, but I digress.

Her death had a profound effect on me.

When I heard about the air crash I knew I was going to have known one of the victims. It was almost with a sense of inevitability that I read the huge profile about her in the Times, as one of the most poignant losses. I never got to say goodbye to her. I spent her funeral stuck in a traffic jam on the M6. I got to the wake, spent 20 minutes apologising to her parents for not being there and drove back to London, never to see them again.

But even now, I think about her a lot. I doubt there’s a week goes by when I don’t. I also think about two other friends I lost recently, one of whom was just 60 and the other of whom was a year younger than me. In conjunction with Sharon, I also remember one of my Grandfathers. He died a few years before she did but at the end when he was living in a home, he talked a lot, and with urgency, about a friend of his who’d died when they were both 25. My Grandfather said how he still missed his friend and I remember thinking how deeply it must have affected him and later, when Sharon died in my 25th year, that it was almost as if he knew.

And why am I talking about this cheery subject on the day I launch my book?

Well, because I’ve just been reading this post here, and while I was reading it, a few ideas that have been scattered about my brain finally came together. Because quite a few people have asked me, recently, how come I just do stuff, like writing books. When I answer that it’s impossible for me not to it raises the question, what’s driving me on? After all, I can’t produce books fast enough to be viable to a publisher. I don’t know anyone in the publishing industry either. Commercially, I’m flogging a dead horse. My answer is always, because I have to but I think in some weird way, I’m also doing it for my lost friends. It’s as if I have to live a fuller and more vibrant life for their sakes, in a celebration of who they were and because they no longer have the chance.

I guess we all think we’re going to live forever. And there’s nothing like somebody one’s own age dying to give one a cold slap in the face with reality. We’re not. So I do stuff, because I want to do it before I, too, shuffle off my mortal coil and I do it NOW because tomorrow may be too late, as I have seen from the experience of my friends.

That’s why I keep writing when there’s little commercial point. Why I spent a good 13 years trying to work out how to write a book and why I spent another six chipping away at the K’Barthan Trilogy. I also believe I should make the best job of my work that I possibly can. That’s why I’ve spent ages agonising over each word, splurged on editors, pestered kindly souls to beta read it and bought fabulous covers (well I think they are).

Today’s piece of sage advice, then, is this.

Follow your dreams peps. Do it for yourself and for the people who can’t. You have nothing to lose and everything to gain. Take life by the bollocks and run with it. Find something you want to do and do it. If you can’t find something you want to do have fun trying out the things you might want to do. Don’t wait for the right time to start. The time will never be right, it’s not in the nature of life. Don’t wait for a future you have no guarantee of seeing. The only way to make your dream come true is to take that first step. Just begin.

And trust me all that time eating snail and tortoise dust will be worth it for this moment, when you know that it’s done. And it feels… amazing. Really. Trust me. You want some of this. Make a start.

Oh… and did I tell you I had a book out today? More on that story, and links to buy, here.

Or buy it on Amazon here

CoverLookingForTrouble

Back cover, Looking for Trouble.

Back cover, Looking for Trouble.

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Help! Help! It’s the Chaos Fairies… and some other stuff…

First up, I’d like to thank the host of brave souls who have started following this blog recently. I really appreciate it and I apologise that I haven’t been able to pop over and visit everyone back. The spirit is willing but, as those of you who have been reading this blog regularly for a while will know, my life is a bit chaotic.

However, while I freely admit that my general organisational life plan seems to be reactive – as in lurching from one oh-shit-did-I-forget-to-do-that crisis to another – I feel that today there were mitigating circumstances. The Chaos Fairies were with me. I was very organised this morning, I dropped off McMini and put a wash on nice and early. The first inkling that the Chaos Fairies had turned up was when, after about an hour I went back to see if the washing was done and discovered the machine had switched itself off.

Dan dan daaaaaah. It was an old machine and I kind of thought this.

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Yeeeeeeek! (Yeh yeh. Eyebomb, therefore eye am.

Luckily it was only the plug. I fixed it. No more harm done than an hour of sunlight and drying time dropped.

A few moments later I returned to my computer to start on my to do list. I managed a couple of things. Booyacka! Then, while my anti-virus programme updated itself I planned the flyers and bookmarks I was going to make.

Or not.

When I tried to open my dtp programme I discovered that my anti-virus had taken the unilateral decision to quarantine the executable file. I couldn’t get it out so I had to reinstall. Then it decided that the latest update of flash was also malware. Then I switched it off file checking and left it to look at e-mails and the internet stuff. I should probably look into that one sometime. In the meantime I’ve managed one book mark and trust me, it was a major achievement.

So I trundled off to collect McMini having pretty much blasted my only day to work this week into nothing. The handlebars had come loose on my bike and were wobbling about. Luckily it was just a case of them moving up or down rather than turning while the wheel stayed pointing straight on but it was… odd.

On the up side. I found the shoes I wanted to wear – which I haven’t been able to find all week – stacked neatly among McOther’s. What the hell was I doing when I put those away? Perhaps the Chaos Fairies felt a little bit guilty and pointed me in the right direction. Or maybe not.

However, it’s probably going some when you come close to forgetting about the launch of your own book. Which is on Saturday by the way. Gulp. Yep, as usual my effort to effect a smooth, ritzy launch is a complete shambles. I’ll be clicking publish on Amazon slightly early, for the ebook, for the simple reason that I will only have patchy access to the internet from Friday morning onwards and it would be a pity if it didn’t appear on the day it was supposed to. If you want to make sure you get your copy it is available to pre-order in all formats pretty much everywhere except in the case of the ebook on Amazon. Phnark.

Never mind. It’s not all shambolic. I do have a signing coming up in Diss, just down the road in Norfolk. Details coming soon.

Right then. For now, here’s a list of the places where you can get hold of an advance copy of Looking For Trouble.

The cover of Looking For Trouble

The cover of Looking For Trouble

To preorder multiple formats – as they become available – click on the links.

In ebook format…
Kobo
Smashwords
iBooks
Barnes & Noble (nook)

In print:

The Book Depository.
Amazon.co.uk
Amazon US.
From your local Amazon, if you live outside those two.
Waterstone’s

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Words With A Fellow Petrolhead

I have been very tardy with this one but my good friend, fellow member of the Gumbee Fantasy Authors’ Guild and also, fellow Petrolhead, Will Macmillan Jones has been kind enough to let me witter on about my books, my theories on economic stability and all sorts of other cobblers, on his blog.

So Will, a belated thank you, and everyone, Will does write a cracker of a blog post so pop over to say hello and do have a look around his blog. You can find the article here.

And if anyone’s come here from there the books page I mentioned, and cleverly forgot to give you the link for is here.

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What do you see, you people looking at me?

As many of you probably know, there’s a little bit, in WordPress, that tells you what people typed into their search engines to get to your  blog. I’ve just been looking at fellow Gumbee Writers’ Guild author, Jim Webster’s latest post about the absurd things people type to get to his – apparently it’s a big favourite with people looking for Marks & Spencers knickers.

Boringly, most of the people who come here have either typed a variant of “why do so few UK agents handle sci-fi and fantasy” into their search engine and come up with this post or they’re actually looking for me. Or at least, they were. After reading Jim’s post I had a quick look at my stats and this is what I found.

the beebatron cbbeis, the beebatron tardis
Excellent. Yes, random person, I can confirm that I, too, have noticed that the Beebatron which was on CBeebies a while back, was the old 1970s Tardis control console. Did you also notice that it then went on to be come Riff the dog’s mixing desk in Carrie and David’s pop shop.

Second: snurd, phn erotcia ah ah ah oh

Yeeeeeees. That one’s a bit of a worry.

The word “snurd” didn’t mean anything when I came up with the concept but I have checked the Urban Dictionary since and discovered that “snurd” is also a contraction of “snotty little turd”. Which, in itself, is quite interesting.

Tangental Hint: the Urban Dictionary is kind of like Rogers’ Profanisaurus – only a bit more serious. However, if you write any kind of spec fic it’s always worth checking it out before you name anyone or anything. You don’t want to discover that your hero’s monika is also the slang term for one of those loud honk-like farts that sounds as if someone’s dragging a table across the floor of the room above. I didn’t know about the Urban Dictionary when I started out.  That’s why I have a race of bad guys called the slang term for a fellow who has one ball that hangs considerably lower than the other.

So there you have it. The Urban Dictionary: gold. Now then, where was I? Ah yes…

What all this illustrates to me is two things: First, what we write on the web can be taken very differently to the way in which it is meant. Second, it’s going to be there for a very long time.  Your views my change, your outlook may mellow but that rabid rant you posted in 2008 will be with you always. This thought crystallised further when I opened my second blog alert this morning and found this article about whether or not agents google the writers who query them: short answer, they do.

Today’s advice, then. Think twice before you speak on the net, especially if you’re an author. Think extremely hard before you make any flippant remarks at anyone else’s expense or anything that might paint you as mean or vacuous or prejudiced. Remember, if you’re prone to bitch about publishers and agents, that if you ever want to work with them one day, they’re going to check you out. They’re going to read everything you’re saying now. So think, my lovely peps. Otherwise, hitting that ‘post’ button, or publishing that book, could constitute several high-calibre rounds to the foot.

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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.

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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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One Man: No Plan is available to pre-order from…

 CoverOneManNoPlan

One Man: No Plan is finally available for pre-order on some sites: Kobo and Smashwords so far, B&N and Apple soon. Amazon does not do a pre-order service so, Ammyphiles, I’m sorry, but you’ll just have to hang on.

It will be available in paperback and in all digital formats, everywhere, on the launch date: 12 June, 2014.

So, the main points again:

One Man: No Plan is on target for release in paperback and e-book on 12 June, 2014.

AND… You can pre-order it in electronic format from these places so far:
Kobo
Smashwords

You can pre-order your print copy from:
The Book Depository, here.

Amazon, here.

OR… you can check this page for seller links – each site will be added as the links go live…

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A little light fluff… literally

It’s been a bit too long since I posted anything on my blog. I have a box 010 post owing and heaven knows what else but there may be a bit of a hiatus until after I’ve launched both books… not that I have much time to launch both books.

You know about the old dears; Dad came out of hospital on Friday. And it’s half term this week, so I won’t be doing much writing related stuff for the next few days, either. Just to complicate things we have also adopted a rescue cat. He is just coming up for 10 weeks old as I write and in the words of the vet he is “a bit of a monster”. Not in temperament, he is a poppet, if he sticks his claws in, you just mewl like a kitten in pain and he withdraws them at once. He’s gentle, loving and a real character. In short, well, in his case it’s more like, long, he is great fun but he is absolutely bat-shit crazy. He is also at least a foot long, about 18 inches if I include his head as well, with enormous feet and ears…. which, as the vet explained, he’s going to grow into.

He was already named before we got him: Harrison, after George (his mother was Beatle and his brothers were Lennon and McCartney). He answers to Harrison, as well, so we’re stuck with it. With those ears, we’d quite like to call him Spock but it’s not going to happen. He’s great fun but he also takes up a lot of time. If we want him to be a people cat there has to be lots of interaction from the get go.

So, without more ado, here he is: Harrison. My latest distraction.

Harrison has two settings: On.

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HarrisonPlayingDay1

or Off.

IMG_1465

IMG_1466

Obviously, ‘off’ is the easier of the two states to photograph. He moves extremely quickly.

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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.

IMG_1395

 

 

 

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Oooo! Shiny thing!

Well here’s a bit of a turn up, Few Are Chosen is featured on the Indie Book of the Day site. You can see it here for the rest of today (Pacific time, which is probably until about this time tomorrow) and you can see the permanent entry here. And they’ve also given me a lovely badge which I will put on my sidebar tomorrow – unfortunately I’m out tonight.

So there we are, do go and check out Indie Book of the Day because they are clearly people of astonishingly fine taste and good discernment. Phnark… OK so I nominated myself but hey. I’m still excited and for those of you who are authors, too, I’ll let you know what the blip in downloads looked like!

See the lovely seal for my blog!

Indie Book of the Day Award

And the lovely certificate. Weeeee! Happy dance.

Royal Certificates

 

 

 

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