General Update - Feb '16

So it struck me that with all the fun of actually writing lately, it's been a little while since I did an update for everyone.  So here goes with that.

Shadows at the Door

The 'Shadows at the Door' horror anthology gets closer to completion every day, and soon the Kickstarter will be coming into play for all of those great extras, like wonderful cover art, fantastic (ahem) editing and audiobooks!  From what I've seen so far, the anthology is going to be chock-full of truly superb stories, and all of the contributors have surpassed themselves.  To say I'm excited would be a massive understatement - and I can only hope that readers enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed being a part of it.

What Comes From The Earth

My first novel, set in contemporary South Africa, is finished, and with beta readers as I write.  The feedback I've had so far has been overwhelmingly positive, and while there may be a few bits to tidy up, I'm hopeful that it can be released in a form very close to its current one.  On something of a whim, I submitted it to a publisher who was looking for diverse characters - though I'm unsure if perhaps they wanted minority authors too - either way, perhaps we'll see.  If there's no interest, I'll revert to my original plan of self-publishing regardless.  I already have the cover, so there shouldn't be too much additional work to do.


This Burning Man

This serial is my first real foray into writing sci-fi, and it's incredibly good fun.  Chapter 5 went up this weekend, which is excellent, and I've managed to get a few episodes ahead of myself to free up the time and allow me to play with the plot a little in later stages.  The aim is to produce a novella-length serial, lasting exactly one year, with chapters spaced out evenly, a fortnight apart.  The whole thing will eventually be available for free, though I'm hoping that I can release the ending on Kindle for a couple of pounds a little bit in advance of its appearance on the blog, so fans can get it in advance and I can make a little bit of money from it.

My Travels Through Imaginary Lands

This is another serial piece which has been appearing on this very blog (Chapter 4 is here) and is inspired by my love for travel writing, particularly the work of Patrick Leigh Fermor.  I came up with the idea to write a journey much like the one Fermor describes in his walk from the Hook of Holland to Constantinople in the 1920s, but to set it in a imagined world of steam, conflict and thaumaturgy.  Because it is a travelogue, there is no underlying plot as such, but a whole lot of fascinating details about the world, its history and culture, the flora/fauna and so on will emerge as you read through.  Once again, when this is finished, I will probably make it available for a couple of pounds on Kindle.

This project, more even than any of the others, is something of a labour of love for me, so I would be very keen to hear what people think of it, and would like to see me do with it.

Escalator Fiction

Last but not least, I've applied for a spot in the 2016 Escalator Fiction competition, a chance for writers from the East of England to receive a year's mentoring, workshops and support from established writers and publishers.  I have a plan for second novel that I'd like to start really soon, though it's moving (both geographically and emotively) a long way from my first one, so I'm going to need to do a lot of research before I can begin.  That said, I'm hopeful that it will be both fun, and able to strike a lot of emotional notes at the same time.  I'll keep you updated when I hear more.

Five New Year Plans

Following on from a shameful reversal of my year-end weight loss efforts at Christmas, I've decided to make a quick list of my 2016 writing goals.  I've never been a big fan of resolutions, so these aren't so much set in stone, but I know from experience that when I set myself targets, I achieve far more than if I just laze around the place, napping and eating biscuits.

So here are the big five writing goals for the next twelve months!

a)  FINISH WRITING A DAMN NOVEL.  I honestly can't say this one loudly enough.  So many people I know have now published novels that it was actually a bit embarrassing seeing my picture in the paper next to theirs when the November Nano stories came out.  I've redrafted my novel four times now, and I'm thinking that I probably won't ever be fully, absolutely, 100% happy with it.  So for this reason, the final draft will be the last one, and then it'll be coming to a Kindle near you in 2016. 

b)  Read a bit more.  I know people who claim to read 200 books a year.  While I salute their efficiency, pretty much my only time not spent working or sleeping is spent gaming and writing, so my reading time is generally at a premium.  That said, I've read some of the books I've been planning to read for a long time in 2015 ('Dune', by Frank Herbert, 'Bright Lights Big City', by Jay McInerney, 'Rivers of London', by Ben Aaronovitch) and I've already met my two favourite authors (Jeff Noon and JM Coetzee), so I'll be looking to new places for inspiration. 

I'm therefore setting myself a loose target of 25 books, at least 12 of which will be sci-fi.  On my list to read so far are:

'Dunes over Danvar', by Michael 'Pennsylvania' Bunker;
'Jar Baby', by Hayley Webster (thoroughly lovely local author whose work has been described as, 'powerfully sensual, gorgeously grotesque, grimly funny');
'Risk of Rain', by Andre Brink (more post-Apartheid fiction from South Africa);
'Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?', by Philip K Dick;
'Shantaram', by Gregory David Roberts;
'The Broken Road', by Patrick Leigh Fermor.

c)  Blog a bit more.  You're worth it, dear readers, and it encourages me to do more things so I have more things to talk about.

d)  More short stories!  This is a biggie for me - anthology work is fun, reliable and great for boosting a profile.  I've always been a fan of short stories, and I'd love to release an anthology of my own work.  I've written prize-winning short stories before, and I think there could be a decent market for these online (I've certainly sold a fair few copies of 'Girl, Running' on the Amazon store at a pound a pop.)

Plus, you don't win competitions without entering things, and it's a big boost to the confidence to win an independently judged contest.  It's good for all aspiring writers.

e)  Make more money from writing than I did in 2015: Thanks to my anthology work and a few short stories, the pre-tax sum total of my writing income for this year is around £200.  While that's a nice bit of extra money, with a bit of commitment, I don't doubt I could have earned much, much more.  So this year I'm going to make that commitment, take jobs that I would have previously turned down, do more editing work, teach or run workshops if anyone asks me to, and generally aim for a more professional, more fun and higher earning 2016.

What are your 2016 writer goals?

A Notepad and a Dream - Cressida McLaughlin

In a series I call 'A Notepad and a Dream', I interview up-and-coming authors about their books, their writing process and their future plans. If you have a book shortly due for release and would like to take part, or know someone else who would, please let me know via the 'Contact Me' page above.

In this episode of 'A Notepad and a Dream' episode, we'll be meeting contemporary romance author Cressida McLaughlin.

Can you tell us a little bit about yourself and your novel?

I originally come from London, but moved to Norwich to study English Literature at the University of East Anglia. I fell in love with the city and never went back. I’ve always loved books, but was only ever interested in reading them until I had the opportunity to try a free Adult Education course. I picked creative writing, and caught the bug.


Like lots of authors, my route to publication has been long and littered with rejections, so I’m over the moon to be approaching publication date for my first novel. It’s called 'A Christmas Tail', and was first published as four eBook novellas during 2015. It tells the story of Cat Palmer, who gets fired from her job at a nursery after taking a puppy into work, and decides to set up a dog walking business in the seaside community where she lives.

Have you always wanted to write romance novels?

I love reading all genres, and am a huge fan of a good crime novel, but when it comes to writing I love the will-they-won’t-they element, and the challenge of creating that and making it work over the course of a whole book. There’s nothing more satisfying than reading a really hard-won happy ending, and that feeling is multiplied when you write one. There’s also so much more to the stories than the romance element – there are no restrictions on plot or style or humour, and I love that freedom.

The success of romance novels is typically dependent on the chemistry between the central characters. Is creating this chemistry something that you've had to practise at length in order to perfect, or something that comes naturally to you?

I think it’s a mixture of both, but it’s something that I’ve got better at through years of writing, and also reading other books that do it brilliantly. It’s one of the most fun aspects of creating the story, keeping the tension alive so that it keeps readers interested and doesn’t become too predictable. It can be a real challenge, but it’s one that I love and don’t think I’ll ever get bored of.

What advantages do you think the traditional model of publishing offers you over those who might be thinking about the indie/self-publishing option?

There were a few occasions on my publication journey when I thought I might try self-publishing, but I never went ahead with it and held out for a traditional deal.

I think for me it’s having all the support that comes with traditional publishing; a great editor who values your writing and spends time helping you make it better, the marketing and publicity teams who know exactly how and where to promote your books, and then of course that amazing moment when you get to hold a copy of your own book, complete with pages and a cover and that great book smell, and know that it will be in bookshops.

I know you can buy in elements of this when you’re self-publishing – editors, cover-designers, publicity – and some people love the autonomy of being able to do everything themselves, but over the last year I have really loved, and valued, having an amazing team who have worked really hard on my book and have helped it to look and be the best it can be.

What would you say is your main strength as an author?

I think one of my main strengths is being open to ideas and prepared to learn. You never stop learning as a writer, whether that’s from editors, agents, other authors or readers, it’s important to be willing to take comments on board and work hard to improve. I want to keep writing, and being published, for years to come, and I want each book to be better than the last.

What will your next project be?

I’m writing my second book at the moment. It’s called The Canal Boat Café and will be another romance novel, again published in four eBook novellas before the paperback comes out next summer. It’s great to be exploring new characters and a brand new setting, and I hope readers enjoy reading it as much as I’m enjoying writing it.

Cressida McLaughlin will be hosting the launch of her book at Waterstones Norwich at 7:30pm on 4 November 2015.

My Current Project List

Like most writers, I have a list of projects going on at any one time, and I thought I'd give you all an idea on my progress with each.

What Comes from the Earth (the novel) 
 
I mention it only because it's the one that people always ask about - and with good reason.

My novel has been in process for a couple of years now.  That's a long while (though I'm hoping that the time will show in the final product!)  There are a number of reasons for this - it's not a straightforward matter to write, there are a lot of other things that have to take priority (family, studying, etc) and sometimes, you just can't face sitting down at a wall of text and starting anew.

The good news is that I am 12k words into the definitive final draft and while my continuing research means that I learn new things about South Africa every day, hopefully these are all going to be part of a significant and coherent whole.

The Z Chronicles (the anthology)

The forthcoming 'Z Chronicles' anthology is expected to be released in June 2015, and yours truly will have a story in it!

I'm very excited for this - the previous entries in the Chronicles series have shot to the top of Amazon and Kindle bestseller lists,and I'll be taking my place alongside some of the most revered authors in Science and Speculative Fiction - alphabetically, my name will be sitting on the cover right next to Hugh Howey, and I figure that won't do me any harm at all.  Most importantly of all, beta readers have really enjoyed the story, and told me that it's one of my best.  I'll let you all know when it's available for purchase, and hopefully you'll go out and buy a copy. 

Crowning Glory (the film)

Some of you may remember that a little whole ago, I was approached to consider turning one of my short stories into a film.  That sounds fun, I thought, and wrote a screenplay.  Our team is set, and when our leading man recovers from his brief hospital stay (get well soon, Greg!) we should be in a position to begin production.  Rehearsals are scheduled in the next week or two depending on commitments, but hopefully we'll soon take a key step to making this a reality.

Going Silver (the idea)

It occurred to me that since many of my projects result in short stories and writing fragments, it's about time that I started collecting them together into something sale-able.  This is a long-term plan, as I don't have enough material at the moment to produce a top notch short story collection (and I wouldn't offer it to people unless I thought it was top notch.)  However, it's a goal I'm working towards, and as I progress with other things, this collection will grow in size and one day it will unexpectedly leap out at the world, all teeth and fury.

The title is a working one, but it's one I like.  It's taken from my favourite novel, 'Vurt'.

Caladria (the competition)

Who likes dragons?  You like dragons.  (Everyone likes dragons.)

Currently, the collaborative worldbuilding site Caladria are running a free-to-enter competition that sees you choose one of three themes and build a narrative around the theme.  I'm currently 1,000 words into an entry.  Dragons feature heavily, and you have the chance to flex your fantasy muscles (the writing ones, that is) and contribute to a rather wonderful shared project.

The Website (the project)

And finally...because it has to happen at some point.

This blog has been a fun ride and my desire to write remains as healthy as it ever has, but I'm now in my second year of having made money from writing, and as such, I believe it will soon be time to upgrade to a proper website.  I'm looking into costs just now, but watch this space.

A Notepad and a Dream - Alex Nader

In a new series I'm calling 'A Notepad and a Dream', I'll be interviewing up-and-coming authors about their books, their writing process and their future plans.  If you have a book shortly due for release and would like to take part, or know someone else who would, please let me know via the 'Contact Me' page above.

In the second 'A Notepad and a Dream' episode, Alex Nader talks about Tennessee noir and running out of whiskey.

Can you tell us a little bit about yourself and your novel?

I'm a pretty lame dude overall.  Two day jobs distract me from three kids, an awesome wife, and these books that I can't seem to stop myself from penning.  My next release is going to be Burdin's End, the final book of the Beasts of Burdin trilogy, and it will be available on July 1st of this year barring any major catastrophes like running out of whiskey.  That happened once.  It was awful.

Your Beasts of Burdin series focuses on a demon hunter-turned-gumshoe who is trying to withdraw from the supernatural world.  What inspired you in your choice of subject matter?

A little bit of everything, but mostly classic noir like The Maltese Falcon and the Philip Marlowe series. I wanted to write something like that, but I'm not near as talented as Hammett or Chandler so I added lots of explosions and beheading to make up for my lack of skill.

At the start of the first novel, the main character, Ty Burdin, leaves Miami for a more peaceful life in Tennessee.  To what extent is the Tennessee in your novel shaped by your own experiences?

I once moved here as well.  It was a new experience, but now Tennessee is my home.  I've seen and learned a lot here and yeah, some of that has crept its way into my writing.  Let me tell you, this place, it's crawling with demons.

What was the hardest part of writing your book? 

Including words other than the cuss words.  Apparently other people's vocabulary is made up of more than four letter words.  I know, weird, right?

Who is your favorite author and what is it that you most admire about their work?

I've got a few favorites, but I have to say Joe Hill stands above them all.  He has this raw ability to make you feel and he uses it to take you on a ride in all of his work.  I'm fucking jealous.

What are your future writing goals?

I dunno, find some more readers, maybe?  Have some fun.  Yeah, that's it.  I want to have a lot of fun.  Writing is about the coolest thing ever, no need to screw it up with things like goals and expectations.  C'est la vie, brah, c'est la vie.

This entry will be updated with links when BURDIN'S END is available to purchase.

More info about Alex's books can be found here, with links to buy them from Amazon and Barnes & Noble.

www.alexnader.com

A Notepad and a Dream - Rena Olsen

In a new series I'm calling 'A Notepad and a Dream', I'll be interviewing up-and-coming authors about their books, their writing process and their future plans.  If you have a book shortly due for release and would like to take part, or know someone else who would, please let me know via the 'Contact Me' page above.

In the first 'A Notepad and a Dream' episode, we'll be meeting American author Rena Olsen.

Can you tell us a little bit about yourself and your novel?

I’m really quite boring. I live in the heartland of America, central Iowa, where we do, in fact, have indoor plumbing AND the internet. I work as a therapist with children in an inner city elementary school, which basically means I get to talk about cartoons and play games all day. My book, THE GIRL BEFORE, is about a woman who discovers the family she’s always known isn’t quite what they’ve claimed to be. It explores the world of human trafficking, but from a unique perspective. There isn’t a firm release date yet, but it should be available late 2016 from Putnam.


What made you want to write this book?

A few years ago, a friend introduced me to the End It movement, a push to raise awareness and end human trafficking. Honestly at that point I wasn’t even aware of what a huge problem modern day slavery is in the world. In my city! I started researching and read a lot of stories, and it got me to thinking about what it would be like to grow up in that world. From that, Clara, my main character, was born.


What are the central themes of your novel, and why did you choose these?

Wow, what a fancy question! Clearly, human trafficking is a big piece of the novel, but the main focus is Clara’s own perception of her world and her life, and how that changes as she is introduced to new facts and circumstances. I really strive to make all my characters multidimensional, and their circumstances believable. I’m not sure if you would call it a “theme,” but the psychological aspect of each character is super important. In simple terms, the themes that stand out most for me are love, truth, and redemption.


What would you say are your main influences?

This is the question where I’m supposed to impress with my big name influences, yes? It would be impossible to list all of them. I read close to 200 books a year, and each author adds to my own prowess as a writer. I try to capture the whimsy of authors like JK Rowling, CS Lewis, and JRR Tolkien, along with the ever-present wisdom they bury within an entertaining narrative. My biggest influence is Ray Bradbury. The way he is able to tell a story and still accurately capture the climate of various social and political issues is nothing short of magic. He is a master.


What would you say is your particular strength as an author?

As mentioned above, I really pay attention to the psychological aspects of each character. Strengths and weaknesses, likable and unlikable characteristics of each player. Because of that, my characters tend to be very distinct in their voice and actions. I’ve always loved dialogue, partially because the characters are always so opinionated on how they speak and what they say. Getting to write them playing off each other is probably the most fun I have when writing.


What are your future plans?

Well, I just received my edit letter from my editor today, so after I finish panicking, I’ll dive into revisions on THE GIRL BEFORE. The deal with Putnam was for two books, so after revisions are finished, I’ll pluck one of the many ideas from my brain and get to work on book 2. These books are for an adult audience, but I would like to be able to share some of my young adult writing with the world someday. Beyond that, I just hope to be able to keep writing for as long as the stories come to me. Most of all, I plan to keep dreaming.

This entry will be updated with links when THE GIRL BEFORE is available to purchase.

Renaolsen.com

Coping with Failure

 
'Failure is just another name for much of real life' - Margaret Attwood

Failure.  A short word that encompasses many embarrassing and tragic events.  It takes many forms, and results from an inability to achieve the expectations of others, or of ourselves.  It needs no further definition, because it's a familiar experience for us all, from the very public failures such as exams or sporting endeavours, to the very private moral and sexual failures that we rarely share with others.

In certain circles, it seems that talking about failure is anathema, and yet it can be strangely liberating.  Failure and redemption remain enduring themes in literature.  We identify with characters that have challenges that mirror our own.  Perhaps you wish you were a better parent, or that you had been a better child.  Maybe at some point in life, you tossed a coin, and picked heads when it came down tails, or maybe your life has been a picture of external success, while inside, a different, nagging flame wishes to burn.

For me, writing and failure are synonymous.  Every time I step up to the page, I'm conscious that the perfect, expressive block of text inside my mind will have acquired edges, new limbs and awkward corners by the times it ends up on my laptop screen.  So as every failure of a child is said to be the ultimate failure of a parent, every page I write becomes a disappointment to me.

Genre writers will be familiar with the advice that you should rack up the tension in stories by throwing ever-greater obstacles in the protagonist's path.  Why do we do this, and why is it so effective?  Quite simply, because it inflates the value of the ultimate triumph which we know must happen by the end.  What do we think of stories where no ultimate triumph occurs?  They grate on us, touch our collective consciousness in a way that reminds us that sometimes, the best intentions and all the effort in the world are not enough to succeed.

And yet, how much do we learn about a person - indeed, about ourselves - unless we suffer failure?  Many of the heroes in modern stories are bound to succeed due to destiny, godlike powers or prodigious talent.  What future for those of us who cannot fall back on those things?  We need to find another way to process these emotions.  For all his talents, Gatsby does not win Daisy's heart, and pays the ultimate price for his obsession.  We feel his loss so keenly because it is our own.

Perhaps then, the true measure of an individual is to be honest about those failures, and to learn something from them.  In the words of Rudyard Kipling, we should be able to meet with triumph and disaster, and treat those two impostors just the same.  This strikes a particular chord with me, because I am genuinely as ambivalent about my successes as I seem outwardly to be about my failures.  And yet, the best stories about failure are still the ones that end with some variation on the theme of, 'when I learned X from that failure, I went on to do this really successful thing.'

So I think I speak for all of us who cannot find the words to say we wish we'd loved more deeply, behaved more recklessly, been more daring, had more fun.  Just because we can't articulate doesn't mean that we don't care.  Most importantly of all, we must forgive ourselves for our failures, because doing so means accepting who we are.

Could you write a book like 'Summertime'?

I've just finished reading 'Summertime' by John Maxwell Coetzee.  In this masterpiece work, nominated for the Booker Prize, Coetzee writes as a unnamed biographer piecing together stories from Coetzee's life after he is dead by interviewing his friends, lovers and acquaintances.

Of course, there is more to the narrative than Coetzee himself.  The interviewees speculate as to the reasons why he is seen as an outsider in his own family, exploring familial expectations of South African men in the '70s.  Coetzee grew up during the first years of Apartheid, and the narrative considers the political implications of being witness to those years, and what it means to feel like a stranger in one's own country (as a white man, he and many of his friends are conscious of a feeling that they have a right to live where they are born, but that that right is somehow illegitimate by virtue of their imposed presence on someone else's country.)

On the way, he considers his personal inadequacies by examining his feelings about his uncomfortable relationship with his father and his feelings about his professional underachievement.  He also recounts specific events from his sexual and romantic past, and even critiques his own writing, and how it could have been better.

In the hands of a lesser storyteller, 'Summertime' could have been difficult to read, but Coetzee is probably the most decorated English-speaking author in the world, and he manages to frame a critique of himself and everything he is, and has achieved without seeming insufferably self-centred.

I'm writing about this partly as an exercise to myself and partly to throw the gauntlet down to you, dear reader-who-writes.  I'm assuming this is most of you.

So this is my challenge: Would you - could you - write a book like 'Summertime'?

2014 - A Year in Writing

So farewell, 2014.  Another year has passed, and I want to do a quick rundown of where things are.

I made a couple of plans for myself at the start of the year, and with one notable exception, I haven't really made much progress.  I'd decided that if I was going to write about South Africa, I should go to South Africa, and I'm afraid that I'm no closer to having a ticket today than I was a year ago.  Part of this is cowardice on my part, I'll make clear now.  I hear different stories about Johannesburg, the city close to where my story is set - some say it's an excellent place to visit, some say unsafe - but I'm still very keen to go.  I'm now planning Japan for 2015 so it's likely that I'll get to Jo'burg after the book is complete.  Not ideal, but hopefully my research and my beta readers will see me through.

So what went well in 2014?  Lots of things!  My partner Melissa Brown completed a Kickstarter campaign to fund costs related to her first YA book, 'Becoming Death'.  My friend Lesley Smith completed her first full novel, 'The Changing of the Sun' and my twitter friends were enjoying their own successes too.  Jennie Davenport completed her novel, 'Hemlock Veils' and Rena Olsen got herself an agent, so hopefully that three book deal will be just around the corner.  Thrillingly, I also got to meet Ivan Vladislavic and my favourite author, JM Coetzee (I may have stuttered like a fool at the signing...)

For me, there was of course the great pleasure of winning the SMHAFF writing award, and giving one of the most excruciating radio interviews in history (thanks to all the lovely and very patient people at Future Radio in Norwich, who stayed with me despite high winds and my phone cutting off on no less than four separate occasions.)  I was also longlisted for the Nottingham Writer's Club award, which I'll be entering again in 2015.

Here are a few 2015 writing goals:

1)    Finish the novel!  The first draft of 'What Comes from the Earth' is now complete, so some structural revisions and then a secondary edit process should sort that.  2015 is the year that it begins, y'all.

2)    I'm working to a March/April deadline on a contribution to a forthcoming anthology called 'The Z Chronicles.'  Expect a strong, character-driven story about a woman searching for her lost child in a complex fraught with the undead.  If you're interested in other anthologies by the same creators, including one where Hugh Howey is a contributor, please click here.

3)    I've been discussing the possibility of adapting 'Crowning Kings' to the screen in the form of a short film.  It's very early stages just, but I'm in discussion with Eduard Micu about a possible collaboration.  If we can agree on a process and can arrange any necessary funding, I'll be working on a screenplay.  Please check out Eduard's work - his short films look fantastic.

4)    More regular blog updates.  Because you deserve it.

What are your writing goals for 2015?

'Becoming Death', by Melissa Brown

My name is Madison Clark and I am the Undead.  FEAR ME.

Okay...so I'm not really that scary.  I weigh about a hundred pounds soaking wet and I'm more likely to crash my car through your gate than eat your brain.  My life is crazy complicated, though.  My mother has this weird Stepford thing going on, my oh-so-perfect sister is already doing all the things I should be doing, including paying her own rent, and my boss just froze herself solid in her own walk-in freezer.  I really, really miss my dad.

And of course, I'm dead.  Did I mention that already?

Not that people seem to cut me any slack or anything.  I already finished school once, and now I have to go back a second time and learn how to run the family business.  It turns out that the whole accountancy thing is just a cover, and now I have to learn how to take souls and show them to the next world.  There's an app with a life of its own, a uniform that is really (I mean REALLY) unflattering, and a Queen Bee who seems determined to make my afterlife a misery.

Fortunately, I'm not alone in the crazy.  There's a whole family of professional mourners who've taken me under their wing.  There's a love interest, a social climber in the funeral business who seems to be going out of his way to spend time with me.  And last but not least, there's my best friend Aaron, the one person I can tell anything to - if telling anyone was allowed.

So yeah - that's me...and you can hear my story soon.

*beep beep*

Sorry, that's my phone.  Wait just a second...what?  I have to kill WHO?!

(Make 'Becoming Death' a reality!  Contribute to the Kickstarter here!)

Melissa's facebook page is here and you can add her on Twitter: @MRBrown_author
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Houses Built Close Together

Zuboja township, Bojanala District Municipality, South Africa

November 1982

As a child, Sithi Nzeogwu's mother had told him that even a small house can hold a hundred friends. She also told him that houses built close together burn together.

Their house in the township wouldn't have held a dozen friends, never mind a hundred. It stood on a ramshackle plot at the edge of the town, the sheeted walls bolted onto one another at random angles like a patchwork quilt. The window frames were devoid of glass and sloughed with dirt. There was no fenced yard, just a wide dustbowl dotted with patches of thorns that sloped slowly downhill towards a creek at the back.

The last of the evening sunshine daubed the horizon orange as a figure ran behind the house in a wide circle. It was a boy, sixteen, but tall and skinny for his age. He had a deflating football bouncing between his feet. Though there was no crowd, he provided a dramatic commentary on the speed and swiftness of his movements, a sidestep here, a feint there. He could hear the cheers of a hundred thousand people as they urged him on.

Standing awkwardly to the left hand side of an invisible line marked with a shirt at each end, a second boy, some five years younger or more, squinted into the light. He had jet black hair and a fat nose, but every other part of his body was hopelessly skinny. As the striker bore down on him, he made no attempt to narrow the angle of the shot that followed, raising his arms in a half-hearted fashion as the ball flashed past him and rocketed into the back of the house. A woman shrieked in the distance.

The older boy let out a victory whoop, blazed past his younger counterpart, almost knocking him aside, and pulled the front of his t-shirt over his head in celebratory fashion. He stood there for a few seconds, saluting a sunset he couldn't see, before pulling the shirt back down and finding himself looking down at an accusing pair of eyes.

'Baako, I don't want to play any more.'

'Sithi, it's more fun if you actually try to save them, you know.' Baako jogged to the ball and flicked it up between his heels and onto his shoulder, where it rested for a second before falling back to the floor and throwing up a tiny cloud of dust.

'I don't want to play any more.'

'Yes, you said,' Baako agreed, lowering his shoulder and jinking past an invisible challenge. 'But if you won't play, who will? My friends aren't around this evening so you have to be in goal.'

The younger boy watched him gloomily. 'I always have to be in goal.'

'It's because you're rubbish at football,' Baako said with evident relish. 'You think they would have asked Pele to play in goal? He's the master, he scores the goals.'

'You're not a master,' Sithi said. 'Pele is much better than you.'

'Maybe,' Baako says, 'but can Pele do this?' He abandoned the ball, sprinted over to Sithi, tripped the younger boy up and then sat on him.

At that moment, an older woman opened the back door and stepped out into the evening. Her face bore the early lines of a hard life, one that had persevered through defeats and sorrows, but more through bloody-mindedness than virtue. She glanced suspiciously at Baako, who was by now wearing a very innocent expression.

'Baako! Get off your brother!'

'Mother, I was just helping him up.' Baako stood and dragged Sithi more or less upright before nudging him in the ribs.

Sithi was a mess, his clothes more dirt than cloth, and his face was caked with mud. 'He tripped me,' he said, in a small reedy voice.

'Sithembile, don't tell tales on your brother. We're supposed to be a family. Can't you two just get along?'

'He's too weak to even play in goal,' Baako grinned.

'I'm not weak!' Sithi yelled back. Unfortunately for him, his voice had yet to break and his yell came out more as a squeak than a shout, which made his brother laugh.

A shadow passed over their mother's face. 'Baako, if you have to play football, don't kick it against the side of the house. You're knocking things off the shelves and you know that you don't want to be waking your father.' The sudden silence that followed this was telling; all of them were afraid of the man sleeping in the front room.

Their mother smiled then, breaking the spell. She said, 'Baako, if you must play, take it down to the creek.'

'The creek!' Baako smiled and lurched at Sithi, grabbing his collar. The younger boy, nimble and well-versed at dodging attempts to dunk him in the creek, slipped away, leaving only his shirt behind as a prize. From a safer distance, he sat and glowered at his brother.

'You'll need to come in soon,' their mother said. 'If you're smart, you'll be in bed before he wakes up.'

Baako waited until his mother's shuffling steps were lost to the wind before pouncing once again on Sithi, who curled up into a ball and lashed out ineffectually with his stumpy legs. It was a brief struggle, and then the younger boy was being held in a headlock and marched towards the creek.

'If you don't want to play football, little brother, maybe it's time for a swimming lesson.'

'No,' Sithi protested feebly.

'Ah, but yes,' Baako said. He had a full foot in height and a significant weight advantage over Sithi. To an observer, it might seem as unnatural a matchup as watching a gorilla wrestle with a dog. The younger boy did have one advantage though; his natural cunning. By letting it appear as though he was even weaker than he was, Sithi was able to manoeuvre his mouth into position. Just as Baako thought he had won the fight, Sithi clamped his teeth down hard onto his brother's arm.

 

Baako sucked air in as the pain hit and he let his brother go. It was only a temporary respite for Sithi. Before he could gain any distance, the older boy kicked his legs out from under him and before he could regain his feet, he had Baako's knee pressed against his throat. It was not a play-fight any longer.

'Let me up! Let me up!' Sithi shrieked.

'Not till you learn your place, little brother.' Baako's lips were twisted into a sneer that made him look unconscionable and ugly. When he pulled this face, he reminded Sithi of their father, and a hundred other beatings undeserved.

'You were going to dump me in the creek!'

'Now I'm not going to bother. You should just be thankful that I don't snap your neck.' Baako reached down and cuffed the younger boy around the head, like he might do to a errant dog.

'I'm not afraid of you,' Sithi whimpered. But he was.

'Apologise,' Baako demanded, leaning more weight onto his knee. Sithi said nothing. But Baako demanded again, and this time raised his fist and let it hover over Sithi's face, high and slow and dangerous.

'I'm...I'm sorry, Baako,' Sithi said. In the end, it is his sense of injustice and not his fear that reduces him to tears.

'Remember, little brother. I'm the oldest. The oldest, and the strongest. You'll never be stronger than me.' Baako cuffed him again, harder this time. 'Don't you ever forget that.'

Thirty years will pass from the time that his brother's knee is lifted from his throat, but Sithembile Nzeogwu has never forgotten it.

By Night, in a Pillar of Fire

Hello to everyone - it's been a long while since I posted here, but between my trip to the US, my accountancy exams and writing my novel, it has been really difficult to find spare hours to write my blog.

I have a few goals for the year to come, but central to all of them is to finish and self-publish my novel.  I've joined together with a number of my Nanowrimo colleagues to try and have a finished work by the end of June 2014.  You can find out a bit more about it here, but to assure you all that I am actually making some progress, here is an exclusive excerpt from the second section of three, entitled 'By Night, in a Pillar of Fire.'

(Please note that there is a trigger warning in the following excerpt for victims of domestic violence.)

 ***

Zuboja township

January 1980

Cicadas chittered away in the trees as a small pair of hands rested unseen on the outer sill. Blankets covered the windows, but the child could hear the shouting from inside all too clearly.

'So what are you saying? I have to feed all four of us?' His father's voice was low and sharp, like the crack of a whip.

'It's not my fault,' his mother protested. 'They wouldn't accept my dompa.'

'I suppose you didn't bother to argue. It's not as if you'd fight to do work.'

'I was lucky they didn't arrest me,' she said.

'You're always lucky,' he replied.

'You think I didn't try to argue?' Her reply was venomous. 'I shouldn't have to fight for the pleasure of cleaning up after lazy women who can't be bothered to look after their own children.'

'And who is looking after ours?'

'Fuck you,' his mother said. 'I told them that I work in that street, I even have the family's signature on the document to confirm it.'

'You should have told them to check,' his father said.

'They didn't care whether I was telling the truth or not.'

'You should have tried harder.' His father's voice became a wheeze and then descended into an ugly coughing fit. The child didn't need to pull the blanket aside to know his mother would be standing as far away from his father as possible, her arms cocooning her body.

When he had recovered somewhat, his father said, 'Every day I work in the mines. I sweat and bleed for you and our sons. Where is my gratitude? My thanks?'

Sithi could hear his mother's tears.

'You are no wife,' his father said. 'I expected so much more from you.'

Something smashed. The family owned few enough possessions before the argument had begun; now they owned one less. The child rested the side of his head against the crumbling wall and the argument within became a dull throb in his ear. He was dimly aware that in other places, children didn't live like this. They lived in houses built of red bricks and travelled around in shiny cars. Even so, he wasn't really jealous of those things. He did wonder if those children's parents fought as much as his did.

The grass that he knelt on was cool, a welcome respite from the heat of the dying day. The light was fading now, and his stomach rumbled. He wanted to sleep but he didn't dare set foot inside until the anger there had subsided. Instead, he moved away from the wall and voices became distinguishable once again.

The wind was worsening, causing the roof to rattle. Someone had been up on there earlier in the day and weighted the corrugated sheets down with rocks so that they didn't get blown away during the night. The child wished that the roof would lift off, so that everyone else could see what was happening inside those walls.

He sat cross legged in front of the house and reached out his hand to where a twig had fallen in the grass. He scratched at the surface of the wood with his thumbnail, and when he was satisfied with its strength, he began drawing stick figures in the dirt.

His mother, short, squat, but with a heart as big as the world. He drew the heart, separate from her, and then he drew her hands reaching out to it. At her feet, he drew squares, to represent the pieces of paper that she used to help teach him and his brother to read.

Behind her, he drew a smaller figure to represent himself. The only facial feature he added on his own figure was the one that everyone commented on – his flat nose. He imagined it big enough to fill half his face. Then there was his brother, and he made his brother taller than him but shorter than their mother. This wasn't how it was, his brother already as tall as a man, but the child felt it was how it should be. He frowned as he considered the physical implications of this.

Finally, he moved to the furthest corner of the dirt patch, a hand's width from the other figures, and drew one with a sad face and no hair. He was the tallest of all and his spine curved around to fill the available space. At his feet, the child drew his father's chair and the bottles that surrounded it. When all other elements of the figure were complete, he drew a single long arm that ended in a ball-shaped fist above his mother's head.

The child surveyed his finished drawing. In the house behind him, his mother's voice, suddenly shrill, was silenced abruptly by the sound of a slap. The child flinched.

Four Thousand Words reviews 'Ink', by Amanda Sun

Author: Amanda Sun
Publisher: MiraINK
Published: July 5th 2013
Pages: 384
Format: Paperback
Source: Bought

Add It: Goodreads, Amazon UK, Amazon US

Note: This review was first posted on Faye's blog, 'A Daydreamer's Thoughts', which comes highly recommended to all readers of fiction.  Thanks Faye! :)

Summary:
On the heels of a family tragedy, the last thing Katie Greene wants to do is move halfway across the world. Stuck with her aunt in Shizuoka, Japan, Katie feels lost. Alone. She doesn’t know the language, she can barely hold a pair of chopsticks, and she can’t seem to get the hang of taking her  shoes off whenever she enters a building.

Then there’s gorgeous but aloof Tomohiro, star of the school’s kendo team. How did he really get the scar on his arm? Katie isn’t prepared for the answer. But when she sees the things he draws start moving, there’s no denying the truth: Tomo has a connection to the ancient gods of Japan, and being near Katie is causing his abilities to spiral out of control. If the wrong people notice, they’ll both be targets.

Katie never wanted to move to Japan — now she may not make it out of the country alive.

** CAUTION ** This review contains spoilers ** CAUTION **

A girl, ordinary but special. A boy, misunderstood. Two dead mothers. Special powers. Fighting. Tears. A bag full of ‘My heart soared and I knew I couldn’t live without him’ cliches. Welcome to Young Adult Paranormal Romance fiction review.

In a genre where vampires, werewolves, zombies and faeries have received critical attention from every possible angle over the last few years, publishers are desperate to find something new and interesting, so Harlequin Teen must have been very pleased to find first-time author Amanda Sun’s novel about kami, spirits from the Shinto belief system, which in this particular incarnation take the form of individuals whose drawings come to life.

To walk us through this genuinely intriguing premise, we are introduced to spunky-but-vulnerable blonde-haired orphan gaijin teenager Katie Greene, who is living in Japan with a nondescript aunt due to an improbable set of circumstances with her extended family and US Social Services following the death of her mother. When she meets Yuu Tomohiro, a slouching, distant anti-hero who nonetheless guards an improbable heart of gold, she unwittingly stirs his kami blood to the point where dark and dangerous things start to happen.

So far, so good. Katie is a likeable if slightly bland main character, but Sun’s initial steps seem uncertain ones, with a notable over-reliance on colour as a visual medium in many scenes, including the one where we first meet Yuu. In the space of a few short paragraphs, we see his then-girlfriend’s black book, pink-and-silver nails, his own navy blazer and copper hair, and so on. The girlfriend is swiftly removed from the picture, and a pregnant might-be-girlfriend is introduced and immediately discounted within a few pages. This leaves the way open for Katie and Yuu, though their initial fleeting hints of romance are somewhat untidy, veering from the Bridget Jones-esque moment where she climbs a tree to prove to him that she can make an exit (simultaneously displaying her underwear to all and sundry) and a scene immediately afterwards where he tries to walk into her to intimidate her into leaving him alone.

Yuu is a vast disappointment as a love interest. He is an example of the stock teenage ‘bad boy’ mould, constructed directly from lazy cliches. In two consecutive scenes, we see him beating up boys much younger than him, and then when he thinks nobody is watching, he helps an old lady onto a train. Despite numerous references to how troublesome and dangerous he is, Katie is intrigued by his non-existent sense of mystery (where does he go when she’s not around?) and stalks him around the neighbourhood until she discovers that he breaks into a fenced-off archaeological site in order to be able to draw his magical sketches without attracting undue attention. Given that both his personality and his magical powers are still almost completely unexplored at this point, the idea of a dangerous guy who finds redemption through drawing sadly reminded me of the villain Raymond Calitri from the most recent film version of ‘Gone in 60 Seconds’ (2000). Calitri is an unintentionally comic figure, a supposedly vicious killer who nonetheless finds time to talk at length about his interest in carpentry. It is not a welcome comparison.

Characterisation is easily the weakest part of Sun’s debut. Without much effort on her part, Katie soon garners an alternative potential love interest called Jun, but he is suitably interchangeable with Yuu, given that the two have the same magical powers, the same interests and the same dependable white-knight qualities that seem so out of place in seventeen-year old males. Fortunately, Sun makes sure to avoid confusion between the two by giving them different coloured hair. The background characters are treated in a similarly off-hand fashion and seem about as substantial as the paper creatures that the kami create in the novel.

Since reading ‘Ink’, I have seen several online comparisons between it and the ‘Twilight’ series, a comparison which is to a degree inevitable given the subject matter and the lack of freedom that an author has to really explore their themes if they want to attract the attention of a major publisher these days. I cannot comment on the comparison as I have never read any of Stephanie Meyer’s work, but in common with the first ‘Twilight’ movie, the first half of ‘Ink’ moves at the speed of continental drift. However, unlike the first ‘Twilight’ movie, the midpoint in ‘Ink’ sees a dramatic improvement when the kami premise is explored and the characters actually start to do things.

Notably, there is a scene where in a bizarre attempt to force her away, Yuu takes Katie to a love hotel, treats her aggressively and kisses her forcefully. Without wishing to make light of the seriousness of the situation that Katie finds herself in, I have seen this referred to repeatedly online as a rape scene, and I can assure any potential reader that ‘A Clockwork Orange’, this is not. The truth is that the scene, like much of the novel, is so emotionally unengaging that I found myself wondering why it appears at all.

It is a tremendous shame that this sense of inconsequentiality pervades the novel to such an extent, given that Sun’s writing style is generally very good. Her dialogue is believable and enjoyable, and she does an excellent job of capturing Shizuoka through Katie’s eyes. Her use of pathetic fallacy is one example of technique applied subtly and unobtrusively. The settings, such as ‘the stomped-down grass and broken branches’ of Toro Iseki, or the ‘barnacle-encrusted base of the snaking orange hallways’ of the Itsukushima shrine, are distinctive and effective.

If my disappointment at ‘Ink’ is palpable to you, you should be aware that as a 35-year-old man, I am not the likely target market for this book. Nonetheless, I was quietly optimistic that ‘Ink’ had the potential to be genre-defining in the way that ‘The Hunger Games’ or ‘Divergent’ were. While it would do the book a disservice to describe it as an opportunity lost, it would be true to describe it as an opportunity that is not fully realised, for while the action scenes in the second half are well-observed, the characters left me feeling largely ambivalent and the romance seems thoroughly contrived. While I would certainly read more fiction by Amanda Sun, I would expect that the subsequent volumes in this particular series will pass me by.

Before I finish, I would like to make a special mention of the ‘Ink’ cover art, which on my pre-release copy is absolutely beautiful and one of the reasons I was attracted to reviewing it. Suffice to say, if Katie had been formed as well by her actions in the novel as she is captured in brush stroke on its cover, ‘Ink’ could have been something very special indeed. Sadly, it seems like it was not meant to be.

The Next Big Thing

I took this idea from another would-be writer who was responding to ten questions from an online reviewer about her current work-in-progress. It's April 2nd, the weather in the UK is shit and I feel that the political changes that the country is undergoing are dangerous and far-reaching, and will have devastating consequences for some. All the more reason then to find positive things to talk about, and it's with great pleasure that I give my responses to the ten 'Next Big Thing' questions :)

1. What is the working title of your book?

The working title is 'What Comes From The Earth', a reference to both the miners in the novel and how humanity is born from the soil and returns there when we die. Death is central to the novel, and it comes swiftly and violently. While I like the imagery, I feel that it's a bit of an ugly title, but I haven't come up with anything better yet!

2. Where did the idea come from for the book?

I wanted to write a story about trade unionism and what it's like to be a rep, but as I'm an international officer, I also wanted to set it somewhere abroad where the story would be an interesting one. I was very touched by the stories from South Africa of the miners who were gunned down by police in August 2012, and it was a story that seemed to sum up a tension at the heart of a country, as well as a class struggle which any British person will immediately recognise. It was an easy decision to set the story there.

'What Comes from the Earth' is set in rural South Africa

3. What genre does your book fall under?

It's a rough attempt at literary fiction - but I suppose if it had a genre, it would be a thriller, albeit a low, slow-burner with plenty of implied threat to the main character.

4. What actors/actresses would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movie rendition?

In the spirit of the endeavour, I'd want the film to be filmed on location with unknowns - maybe real life locals - playing those roles. If Hollywood insisted (oh glorious day), I would probably choose Don Cheadle to play Sithi. I loved him in Hotel Rwanda.

5. What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book?

A man defies forces of chaos on all sides and learns about leadership and loyalty.

6. Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I'm incredibly excited and keen to get it out there for people to read, so I'll be self-publishing as soon as two of my readers give me thumbs up that they'd spend £2 on it. In truth, I fully acknowledge that this won't necessarily be a book with a mainstream audience, so just being well-written may not be enough to attract a mainstream publisher. You never know, though...

7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

The project was begun during Nanowrimo'12 and the first draft will be finished during Camp Nano'13, so about six months.

8. What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Shamefully, I haven't read the book, but there are a lot of similarities to the movie version of 'The Last King of Scotland'. The setting will be broadly similar and there is the same sense of a strong protagonist and a strong antagonist playing off one another while a wider crisis looms in the background.

9. Who or what inspired you to write this book?

All of my Nano and my reading group friends have played a part in inspiring me. I just hope it's as good a read as they deserve.

10. What else about the book might pique the reader's interest?

I'm a first time author with a genuine story to tell - and I'd love this to be the start of a long and successful writing career.

Farewell, 2011

Another year end blog post! One of the things you get from writing a (semi) regularly updated blog is that you get to reflect on the things you were thinking about, talking about and worried about at this time last year. You are really given a sense of perspective because the events that you were writing about remain fresher on the page than they do in your memory, and the things that you were doing yourself are inextricably linked to those memories.

I'm really quite pleased with the way that 2011 has gone. I have a new job, a new girlfriend, have met lots of new and interesting people. I have become closer to and learned new things about the people I already knew, while other people have moved away from me as they pursue the next chapter in their own stories elsewhere. I have been to Egypt. I have written the first 50,000 words of a novel and met some wonderful people whose own books will knock mine out of the park.

Memorably, 2011 has seen a desire for equality and democracy grip the world. We have seen uprisings, upheaval, political instability and a clarion call for fairness and justice. A lot of lives have been lost in the pursuit of the simple human rights that we in the UK take for granted, and these are rights that we, with our freedoms, must continue to campaign for others to have.

A new year should bring the promise of a clean slate and accompanying optimism with it. However, in the context of the world in which we live, we face a year ahead under a cloud. Austerity bites, and the pound in your pocket will buy less in the coming year in real terms than it did in the last. Our nation is politically stagnant and we are in dire need of good ideas and brave actions.

The wonderful thing about Britain is that it remains big on heart and character. We can still be proud of our culture and our resourcefulness. Hard times call for courage and inventiveness, and as I look around at the people I know and work alongside, I know that the challenges we face can be overcome.

I achieved last year's goals of travelling outside Europe and finding a new love, but I never did buy a camera and take up photography. It remains on the list of things I want to do. As with last year, I have set myself three goals for next year to try and help me on my way.

1) Lose some weight. Yes, I know, it's a New Year's resolution staple, but it's a cliche for a reason. If I get any bigger, I'll be visible from space and I'm not having that. So my goal is to be at or under 13 stone 10lbs in weight on 1 Jan 2013.

2) Finish my book. Note that that says finish, not get published or write a bestseller (I might do those things in 2013.) This should be the easiest of all goals. I already have 55,000 words of a firsr draft that I wrote in 28 days, so actually getting the words onto paper is the easy bit. Generating characters that don't feel contrived and having a storyline that gets and keeps your interest is a little harder...but that's something for a second draft.

3) Pay off my personal debt. God, these are aiming a bit low this year...but it needs to be done so I can start enjoying myself again. I'm glad David Cameron took the bit out of his speech about getting people to pay off their credit cards. Otherwise I'd feel like I was being told off by a Tory.

What are your plans for 2012?

A Novel Idea (3) - Dialogue

Apologies to those of you who read my regular updates but aren't really interested in my pet project - there has been plenty to talk about in the last few days and I should be getting back on track after this weekend. In the meantime, you might enjoy the following scene from the still-untitled novel...


@TajinderZahman is about to lose it all.

Taj whipped an arm round the post on the landing and flew down the stairs, taking them in two well-judged leaps. This would normally have taken him straight through the front door but unfortunately, Naani had been moving furniture in one of her regular shifts designed to keep the house layout fresh and deter her frequent visitors from getting too comfortable in any one position.

Instead of the door, Taj careened into an end table and vase which had been left improbably between the stairwell and doorway, most likely with the specific aim of preventing him from performing the exact manoeuvre that he had planned. The table fell straight across the doorway, preventing a speedy getaway. The vase, conical-shaped and made to resist rough treatment, rolled around, spilling chrysanthemums across the hallway and water towards the gap under the door. Taj watched it as it trickled away, his mind and muscles slowed by the impact. He thought of the wave that Josie had told him about earlier, saw the fear and inevitability that must have washed over the people in the countryside as they saw the wave approach...

“Tajinder Zahman! You are a crazy, clumsy son of a fool!” Naani stepped into the passage from the kitchen, a heavy marble rolling pin in her hands. Her apron was dusted with flour and she seemed briefly big enough to feel the corridor, rather than the skinny five-foot-nothing that she actually was.

When he hadn’t moved a few seconds later, she stepped over towards him, righted the table with a single movement and produced a cloth, which swiped away most of the surface water with a single, angry sweep.

“Well? Have you nothing to say, baalak boy? Your poor mother would have enjoyed your silence while you were growing up!”

The enormity of the situation was slowly filtering through Taj's mind, and as it touched each receptor on the way through, it left an ice-cold burn behind. He hardly even realised that the dangerously-soft voice he could hear was his own.
“Naani, we have to go.”

“Go? What are you talking about? This is nonsense, boy!” When his expression did not change, she then said, “I’ve just put some samosas into oil.”

Taj willed his muscles to force him forward but as usual, they were frozen solid in Naani’s presence. He couldn’t speak for shame, but his anguished expression told the old woman more than words ever could. She immediately dispensed with her mock-angry demeanour and instead looked him directly in the eyes.

“Taj,” she whispered, “what have you done?”

A Novel Idea (2) - The Setting

The setting for the aforementioned novel...

@TajinderZahman is free in Nuevo London!

Nuevo London! Oh, sweet, sweet city of spice and sugar! Lead me through your scented alleyways, that I might find gold, or love, or adventure here tonight.

Nuevo London, cultural centre of a very new European jewel. Watch umbrella'd businessmen weave between raindrops on the steaming pathways through Nine Elms. Count the cobblestones between the olde English theatres in Earl's Court. Drink sweet mint tea and listen to the white boys jam in the Brompton Underworld.

Nuevo London, cheerful home of waving squat minarets and ceremonial juniper smoke that drifts over the churning River Thames. Stroll amongst the densely-layered cherry trees as the scores of oil-haired delivery workers lounge in the evening sunshine and drink their Indian mulberry wine. Stir pots of boiling crabs on rugged concrete street corners as the old Islamic men across the way chant at sun-up and sunset. Hear the assembled brethren as they kneel as one before the wall. Takbir! Takbir! Allhu Akbar!

Nuevo London, phoenix from the sodden ashes, home to half-a-million twinkling lights in homes, offices and boudoirs. See the cathedrals, the clubs, the spires that reach to the cloud line. Bathe in the architecture, then grab shatkora bhajis and guanaco steaks fresh from the pan and eat them with burned, greasy fingers as you ride the tram to the hashish bars in Lavender Hill.

Nuevo London, with its rows of climbing apple and pear souks where you can sample raisin couscous from the tagine. Grab handfuls of vivid pink peppercorns from wicker baskets below wires of blood-red chillis and fist-sized knots of indigo garlic. Watch the wary-eyed, knarled women kneading bread and threading beads on catgut string. Buy handmade silk scarves and saris of every colour of the rainbow.

Nuevo London, with girls from every corner of the globe and some yet unexplored, tall like string beans, squat and large-breasted. Study the chequered maps of their hued and pampered skins. Breathe them in as they sashay past you, bearing intoxicating perfumes, their laughter as precious as saffron and as untameable as the wildest of wild orchids.

Nuevo London, they sing in the starry sky above the glittering floating docks of Brotherhood Wharf. In the darkness between the sacred streams, the Eagles stamp their feet and watch you with unblinking eyes while the Squid give you cursory glances as they march to their jobs at the heads of the gambling tables. The air is scorching hot and any debauchery and depravity you wish to enjoy can be found here, the one place in The City where the humans do not rule and the Message does not go.

Smile, Tajinder Zahman. For this great, terrible, beautiful city is yours and yours alone.

A Novel Idea

As some of you may know or have figured from reading this, I seem to spend half my life behind a computer. I read a lot, I write a lot. Most importantly of all, I like to feel that I learn a lot. I'd even go as far as to say that those little lessons (lessons like 'Don't get blind drunk on a first date') have been invaluable to me over the years.

In addition to blogging with the impotent fury of a castrated mongoose, I also have a lost love: that of creative writing. So I'm very pleased that a new friend of mine has reawakened this love through National Write-a-Novel month.

The premise is simple. 50,000 words, 31 days. Do the maths, figure out how much time you already waste at work or with your partner, or asleep. Then reject all of those things for a crazy month-long attempt at writing a bestseller.

You should appreciate that with such time constraints, quality is bound to be low. With the excuses now out of the way, I hope you'll appreciate reading this snippet from the beginning of the book. The Message is a murderous social-network that's inside your head every minute of every day. When it's not hawking you crap, it's tracing your every thought and movement. Just be glad that it hasn't become sentient and killed you. Yet.

The snippet begins after the image of London at night below. (Photocredit to photographer Jason Hawkes).

Incidentally, I haven't got a title yet. Ideas would be appreciated.

The Message – Social Media for You in the Twenty-Third Century!

Save time on manual updates! The Message is the only twentyfourseven social media solution that updates itself constantly from the things you see, think and feel.

No need for unreliable, tedious net-terminals. Through the wonder of the world's most advanced bio-mechanical engineering, you'll see the important things you need to see in front of your very eyes when you need them the most.

Stock prices, news items, sports updates. See everything as it happens in real-time. View timetables, book tickets to films or the hippest restaurants. Control everything that happens to you from the space behind your eyes.

If you've been a victim of crime, The Message knows about it. Trust us to track down that bag-snatcher before he's left the scene and be there for your safety before that mugger has even raised his knife. We patrol every street corner so you never, ever have to fear.

Medical emergency? The Message knows that you're sick before you do, monitoring the tiniest changes to body chemistry on a molecular level and making sure that you are taken straight to a synthward for the very best care that we can offer.

Questionable sexual desires? Hell, we all have 'em! The Message doesn't judge you. Instead, it can direct you to a thousand others who share your desire to get funky with farmyard animals. Now get out there and socialise, you pervert!

With The Message on your side, you'll never be lied to again. Say sayonara to toadying lackeys, rip-off salesmen and errant spouses! The Message takes you straight to your local community so you never, ever need to be alone. Experience everything and put it out there so that you can share it with your net-family.

Whatever you want, whatever you're interested in, The Message is for you. What you feel is what you see – and what you see is what you feel.

The Message. By your side every minute of every day.