Wednesday, 23 January 2013

The Next Big Thing '2'
The awsome Ruth Watson-Morris invited me to participate in The Next Big Thing blog hop. Check out her fantastic blog. authorvoxianseriesbooks
Here are the questions.
    1. What is the working title of your book?

    Warrior: A tribesman novel. Although that has changed at least four times.

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

    It is the sequel to my debut novel, Tribesman, an epic fantasy published by Cogwheel Press

    3. What genre does your book fall under?

    epic fantasy.

    4. Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

    I'd love to see a blockbuster made with totally unknowns in the lead roles.

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

    Born on the edges of the Frozen Waste, where men as cold and hard as the dark rocky peaks, do battle with sword and axe, I am Culainn, warrior born.

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

    It will be published by Cogwheel Press.

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

    About six months.

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

    I'm not sure I would compare it to anything, I'm not saying I've come up with a completely original thing, my story is heavilly influenced by Celtic mythology, but I haven't read anything like it.

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

    The voices inside my head.

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

    It is a fast moving, unpredictable tale of, warriors, demons, magic and dark gods, with a hero as cold and hard  as the high rocky peaks of the frozen north.

    Where you can buy my stuff

    US: Tribesman: Kindle

    Strange Tales From The Scriptorium Vaults:


    Uk: Tribesman: Kindle.

    Strange Tales From The Scriptorium Vaults:


    Where you can find me.




    So, time to pass the baton onto some of my favourite authors.

    Sharon Van Orman author of Lykaia

    Lucia Adams author Vein Fire

    Jennifer Eifrig author of Discovering Ren



Wednesday, 2 January 2013

“So, make any resolutions then?” I looked at her, mouth agape, her and her pretty little party dress, her and her big brown eyes, her and those stupid sparkler things in her hair.
Did I make any resolutions? Is she fucking nuts? The crowd move around us, a mass of swirling bodies all moving in time with the music, their hands reaching for the air as the count down begins. Did I make any resolutions? Yeah, I fucking did, I resolved not to cry myself to sleep anymore, not to contemplate flinging myself onto the tracks every morning I wait for the commuter train. Not to think of you every waking moment and dream of you when I sleep. To be prepared in the morning when the reality of my life without you comes crashing in when I wake, an avalanche of sorrow burying me in soul wrenching grief.
Did I make any resolutions? How about wishing, every time I wake, it does not feel as if some rabid animal is tearing my guts out with its claws. Or that my chest is burning whenever I think of the moments I shared with you, when I tenderly stroked your cheek, leaned in and kissed your lips tasting a hint of cherry. Whenever I think I will never share such intimate time with you again. Remember you said you loved me? Liar! We would always be together, that’s what you said. We were soul mates, inseparable, we would grow old together, die in each others arms. What happened to that?
My mind keeps replaying, over and over again, the first time I saw you with him, it still hurts like a physical blow. I thought I was suffocating, my breath came in ragged, hoarse gasps. All I could keep saying, over and over again was, how could you do this to me? It was like somebody had plunged cold steel into my chest. You gave me a little sheepish smile and apologetic wave and then snuggled up to his arm. I wanted to kill you… I wanted to kill him. Instead I left.
I walked along the canal, I stared into the still water, I could taste the frost on my tongue, feel the cold burning my cheeks. I’d left my jacket behind but I didn’t care. I just kept thinking of you and him. How he was in my place, it felt like my brain was trapped inside a cloud. How could this be – how could he be standing in my shoes? That should be my arm you are  holding. And then…then, to pile misery on top of horror, you turned to him when I started to approach. As if, as if you needed him to protect you… from fucking me! God that hurt. The rage I felt, I so wanted to hit you, I hated you at that moment.
“Do you want to dance?” She says to me.
Christ, love, you’re a good lookin’ chick, but can you not fucking see, I am not someone you want to dance with? “Yeah, okay,” says I. What the fuck am I at? I don’t want to dance, my insides are being torn to shreds. I pour alcohol onto the flame of my burning soul thinking it will douse the pain.
She snuggles in close. It doesn’t feel right. It’s wrong...wrong…wrong, cunting wrong. She’s too skinny, my arms enclose her tiny frame way too easy, her hair doesn’t smell right. I can feel tears welling in my eyes. She’s not you. If I close my eyes I can trace every inch of your body. I can almost feel my fingertips tingling as I imagine caressing your skin, running my hands over the curve of your hips and waist. I can feel your ribs before I reach the heavy flesh of your breasts. I imagine you inhale sharply as I flick my tongue on your erect nipples.
When I strolled alongside the canal, looking into the dark, still water, all I could think of was how peaceful it would be to slip below the waterline, to surrender and allow my lungs to fill with water. I imagined what your reaction would be when you heard the news. Would you mourn me? Would you scream and wail and cry it was all your fault?
Then I thought, what if I didn’t die, what if I only half drowned and was hauled to safety in the nick of time. Would you come and see me? Would you ask why I had done such a thing and when I said it was because I loved you so much, would you realise then, we are meant to be together?
She tries to kiss me, God knows why. I don’t want to but I do, she’s insistent. She slips her tongue into my mouth. Tears roll down my face. She’s not you…. She’s not you.