JoZebwrites
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JoZebwrites
Jun 8, 2017, 3:21:27 PM6/8/17
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Posted: 08 Jun 2017 03:39 AM PDT I apologise in advance of my rant. Feel free to have a cuppa, go and vote (if you're in the UK), read a book, whatever, and completely ignore me.
My long-suffering critique partners will assert that if there is one thing bound to annoy every writing gene I have on my radar, it's filter words. But, generous soul that I am, I can tolerate them in critiques - that's why we go through the hell of such matters, after all - and in my own first drafts. But when I read published books absolutely full of them, I get a rant on. Now, let's get this out of the way. I know there is, sometimes, a place for filter words. If you want to keep the reader distant from the character, they're a tool for that. If you want to ape an older style, yes to keeping them in (remember, omnipresent narrators used to be the norm). And if you want to write in omnipresent, filter away. But! If you want to write a book with close character interventions that will pull a reader into the character, they're your enemy. And, since that's the kind of book I like to read, it's made my spidey sense for filtering very high. So, what are filter words? I first came across them described as veil words - words that put a barrier between the reader and the character experience. They're also telling words, rather than showing, so if you can ditch them you'll move towards a show rather than a tell in a lot of cases. Let's try an example. Sally, my eponymous hero-dog, has just left the house to go on her walk. 'Sally steps out of the door. She feels the wind through her fur. She sees her owner getting the leash and is excited, jumping up and woofing. The gate opens and she sees the driveway beyond, and smells the scents coming from the garden. She is so excited.' (In real life this is where Sally nearly takes me off my feet and drags me down the road.) That's full of filter words - feels, sees, smells. Other offenders include hears and thinks and wonders. All are evil. Let's try that passage without filtering. 'Sally steps out of the door. A strong wind ruffles her fur. Her leash is lifted down, exciting her. She jumps and woofs. Beyond the gate, the driveway is full of garden smells, further exciting her. She drags her owner down the drive, into the street, and halfway into town.' Now, I'm not arguing that passage is exciting. I doubt it'd pass the 'furthers the plot, character or world' test (unless the owner gets tugged to the feet of the handsome stranger and that's your story). But the second is closer to Sally. I could improve on that second, adding details of what she smells, of the strength of the wind, of the rattling of the leash. The first, to me (and this is my rant) is dreary. It is a list. How to remove the evil that is a filter word. 1. Control+H is your friend. I use filter words. My first drafts are littered with them. I wince when I edit 1st drafts towards something usable. I do catch most of my filters in that edit, but some always escape. Which is why at some point I do a search for the more common filter words, ask myself did they survive because they should (Abendau was murder for that, with all the psi powers and trying to describe what really was a distant feeling), either in what they achieve or in accuracy. (If I touch something with my finger, I do feel it. Although I'd argue the descriptor could still be made somewhat stronger.) 2. When you find one, think. How can you remove it. Especially if you have one that 'tells' rather than 'shows', simply removing it might not work. 'He saw a small courtyard' remains pretty drab when turned into 'The small courtyard'. Make it work. Make the senses happen. Instead of it being a small courtyard and nothing more, extend that. A herb-filled courtyard sends a different image from a weed-strewn one, or a bare one. Or indeed, one with a 'no ball-games' sign. Filtering is lazy writing. It's a way of moving through the scene without having to do too much work. As such, learning to do without them is a great way to work at improving your writing and making it more immediate. 3. I mentioned lists above. If you write a passage and it feels like a list, check for filter words. They're sometimes to the cause. 'Sally (who is delighted with the attention, by the way, and would like the inclusion of a nice steak in her story) saw her dinner coming. It was a big steak, dripping blood. It smelled so good. Her stomach growled as the dish was put in front of her, and she ate. It tasted fabulous.' This is all for the editing stage, and, of course, lists can be caused by all sorts of things including, but not limited to, 'telling', and sentence construction being too limited (which the dearth of nice useful things like semi colons and colons tends to make more pronounced.) But there are ways to make that passage about the steak work harder. 4. Get a beta reader who has a nose for filter words. I suspect most of my regular crit partners check their extract for filters before sending to me as there really is nothing more soul destroying than receiving the same feedback each time. I have a crit partner who is very sensitive to point of view switches and has trained me to stop being lazy and using them. If you have a weakness in your writing, crit groups can be great for addressing them. 5. Enjoy the richness that will come. Filters remove a lot of the fun of description. They're boring to write (again - just me, this is my rant. Feel free to love and embrace your own filters). They're drab. But being Sally, smelling that steak, seeing the way the steam rises from it, biting into it and its hot and its soft and it gets swallowed so that Sally's stomach fills and is warm. That's fun writing. Anyhow, there you go. A rare how-to-write post rant. Normal sedate service resumed next week. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Just to say, I'm at a number of events with the Belfast book festival over the next week or two: Sat 10th at 2 pm I'm talking with debut author J D Fennell at Waterstones in Belfast. I'm currently racing through his enjoyable and fresh YA thriller, 'Sleepers', and am looking forward to meeting with him and chatting about it. Friday 16th at 5.30 I'm at the Crescent Arts chatting with Naomi Foyle. I'm really loving 'Astra', the first book of her Gaia Chronicles, and am exciting to be talking with her. We'll be reading from our work and talking about some of the shared themes and the places that have inspired us, plus taking any questions put to us. It should be a good night. Lastly, on Saturday 17th I'm back at the Crescent Arts joining a whole range of women readers from Women Aloud. There will be poetry, fiction, short work, YA work and me with a creepy little reading from Waters and the Wild. There'll also be a load of books for sale from the readers and a chance to pick up the odd gem or two. It would be lovely to see people there! Jo  |
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JoZebwrites
Jun 15, 2017, 2:56:51 PM6/15/17
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Posted: 15 Jun 2017 05:49 AM PDT This week, and coming soon to an Amazon near you – honest! I just have a few hoops to jump through first – I updated the cover to Inish Carraig. I’ve also, a few months ago, had a new cover designed by Gary at Tickety boo for the Abendau trilogy – and this is the cover I think best represents the trilogy. Here’s that cover:  I’ll talk about why we went from a spaceship to a picture of a person, looking determined and dogged first. A spaceship is a great cover image for many Space Opera books. It tells, clearly, what genre the book is in, it states who its target audience is. But! There are a zillion Space Opera books with space ships on them and, frankly, they don’t tell the reader much about the story. Which is fine if you’re playing with the SO tropes and writing a conventional, space-based, story. Which Abendau isn’t. It’s a big sprawling story about people, centred on one man. Anyone picking it up to read about space battles will be sorely disappointed. Which is why, when it came to packaging the trilogy, it had to be Kare on the front cover, and nothing but Kare. After all, I put him through hell: he may as well get something from it. That was an easy one – or easier – than when I started to look at Inish Carraig. Now, I love the original cover of Inish Carraig.  It looks especially good on the paperback – and I don’t intend to update the paperback (unless the new cover has a big enough impact on sales to make me think it might be worth it.) The paperback mostly sells in Northern Ireland, where it ticks over nicely, especially around the Belfast area. The cover screams Belfast. No one who has lived there, or visited it there, needs to be told that the cover image is of Samson and Goliath, the cranes that dominate the Belfast skyline. But, I’m trying to sell a science fiction book. And when your title doesn’t scream science fiction, your cover image needs to. Frankly, in thumbnail size (which is the size you see on Amazon) Inish Carraig’s cover didn’t. The spaceship detail was lost in thumbnail. The title wasn’t easily dealt with. I don’t want to change the title. It has become synonymous with me, in some ways. But it isn’t the easiest sell for a sci fi book. I have added An Alien Invasion Novel to the title line, but I’ve kept – and, for now, will continue to – the title. Which meant I needed the cover to scream out that this was science fiction. Around the time I was thinking about this, Facebook decided to give me £30 to use on ads, which I did. Those ads told me that the people clicking on it where in the 18-30 age range, and mostly women – which surprised me given Inish Carraig has a male protagonist and is probably the ‘blokey-ist’ (watch how un-PC I am) of all my books. Now, let me be blunt. We know female readers will buy books written by male and female writers. And we also know male readers – as in the great mass, not individuals, where I know loads of blokes who don’t follow this next stereotype – prefer books by male writers and need significant pull to pick up something by a woman writer. Now, I’m a lady in case you hadn’t realised, which meant I needed my new cover to scream that ‘this is for men, too!’ (Inish Carraig is a pretty universal story with a couple of blasting female characters in there, too – particularly Josey and Neeta). Whilst musing on all this, Amelia Faulkner, author of Jack of Thorns, gave me some well thought out advice. The colour was a disadvantage, she felt, and the book needed a person on the cover, preferably one that will appeal to the younger demograph. Which is the brief I went back to Gary with. And this is the cover we went to:  Now, some thoughts. Is this a better cover than the first. Aesthetically, as a picture, I actually don't think so. I think the first is an amazing piece of art. But is it a better book cover? That's a different question.... I think so. I’ll know better when it goes live and I see what sort of sales I get on it, but I think there is more in this to draw a reader in and tells them more about what the story is. Is the figure on the front representative of either John or Henry? Not really. Nor are they meant to be – I’m sure my image of John is different from others. But it is supposed to represent someone caught in the desolation of an invasion, someone who is ready to fight. I think it does that. It also has a gamer-esque feel to it, and I wanted that, too – because Inish Carraig is visual and visceral and has that feel to it. I don’t know if it will do better as a cover. The other cover does well and ticks over nicely – so it is a risk to change it. But I do know the only way to learn what DOES work is to try things. And try them again. And keep going until something sticks. We’ll see if this does.  |
JoZebwrites
Jun 20, 2017, 3:07:09 PM6/20/17
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Posted: 20 Jun 2017 08:51 AM PDT On Sequels
I've written two sequels to date and, by and large, I enjoy writing them. One of the hardest things for me, when beginning a new book, is getting to know the characters. Once I have them nailed - as in they live in the dark hole in the back of my brain that seems responsible for writing books - I can, generally, happily write a new book about them. Up until now, however, my sequels have all been in the Abendau world. Not only do I know the characters insanely well - I can slip into any of their point of views easily - but the first book hadn't been released so there was no weight of expectation. If I write another in that world - and my plan, eventually, is a second trilogy based around the younger generation - it will be because it has exploded out of me and I'm writing it because I need to and I love to. The sequel I'm starting to work on is different. It's to Inish Carraig, it's been asked for and will follow up a book that is popular and the one I am most often asked about, to date. I'm feeling my way in it - I'm even plotting and world building, for heaven's sake! - and trying to regain the voices of characters I haven't inhabited for some time and who have grown a little since book one. I'm daunted, not just in practical terms - Inish Carraig is light on world building, for plot, character and narrative reasons and I need to make sure what I put in place in this book supports book one. This one will have a lot more about the alien worlds and tech, for instance, and the political and martial structures that support them. That's all daunting. But, mostly, I think I'm worried that whatever alchemy that came together in book one still works in book two.... When daunted, the only answer is to break the task down. Normally I just sit down and write (and I'll do that, too, and already have the first couple of chapters drafted) but this time I might even need to plan a little too. That being the case my plan of action is: Reread book one - to rediscover the voices, to remind myself of some plot things, and just to immerse myself back into the world. It is a weird thing, reading your own book. It's easy to itch and scritch and mutter about sentence construction and the like. Occasionally it's surprising how much I still like some scenes! Research possible planetary settings. At this stage, I think Alpa Centuria AB/ Alpha Proxima are the most likely stars for the Zelotyr and Barath'na to hail from, but there are other possibilities. Cue astronomy books (yes, I have some! Mostly ones with 'for dummies' in their title) and headaches. Then, research military systems and hardware. Some of this was in book one - notably through the space attack and the smart bombs - but it all needs expanded on. Sort out the structure of the Galactic Council. I have a charter, written for Inish Carraig, but need to formalise the structure Work out what direction Earth has gone in. And, specifically, consider what might be happening in a future Northern Ireland. That one is giving me sleepless nights already. Sort out the double-stranded plot line. This will, I think, emerge from the above strands. For now, then, the PC is closed and no writing underway. But - be feared! - I have a notebook and a pen. What could possibly go wrong?   |
JoZebwrites
Jun 21, 2017, 2:49:32 PM6/21/17
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Posted: 21 Jun 2017 02:59 AM PDT But I also have a day job (I run a consultancy), have kids to run after and a range of pets and what-nots, and don’t really have a lot of time to fit writing in. Which means, when I do write, I have to make the most of my time. Now, I’ve been self-employed for years and one thing you have to be able to do to succeed when self-employed is to sit down and work, in my case amid the distractions of a busy house. I apply much the same approach to my writing. Here, then, is how I churn out whatever I do churn out:
I find working on that single project allows me to focus, but that moving from it allows me space before I review and find all the areas that are horrific, and the ones that need more.
So, there you go. Not an automaton or some kind of crazy workaholic but planning, the same as is applied in any other job. That works for me – but it might not for others. (In fact, I know some of my writing friends are backing slowly away and saying, no thanks. :D And that’s just fine…)  |
JoZebwrites
Jun 30, 2017, 2:52:52 PM6/30/17
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Posted: 30 Jun 2017 08:12 AM PDT I love to write. I think it's safe to say that no one becomes a writer without wishing to write. Unlike some jobs, I don't think you can write - creatively, I mean, not copywriting, or technical writing for a job role - unless you genuinely have a desire to write the story. Which means, of course, that I can warn anyone starting out that they will find it hard to get their book noticed, that they will most likely make very little money, and that they will find the going tough sometimes, and they will still write. No amount of warnings would have stopped me writing, at any point, nor do they now. But! Writing is a slow process. I'm by no means a turtle at this process, but nor am I among the quickest writers I know. Somewhere in the middle: a reasonable rate of getting-things-out. How long does it take? I tracked my last book from the day I started it to the day I had a draft I was prepared to let beta readers get their teeth into. It took me 72 writing days - not day-days, but days where I actually had the opportunity to write something. Those 72 days were spread over 7 months. I reckon, as a crude mechanism, that that equates to me writing on something like 35% of available days. I used to write every day to get into the writing habit. That's not possible anymore, sadly. Why not? Well, I've got the day job, the kids, the pets, the hobbies, the family, the things-I-do-when-I'm-not-writing. But they've been there since the day I started this gig. What I now have that I didn't have before is 5 books in the wild that require me to promote them. I have a profile as a writer, of sorts. I do panels, and networking and conventions - and I love them all. I don't want to not do them. I have beta reading and forums I not only like being on but that my books get visibility from me being on that forum. In short, on top of an already busy life, I now have a busy second career. Which doesn't, generally, pay that well. Or, at least, not well enough for me to give up the day job... (not that I especially want to). Herein lies the quandry that brought me to the blog today. Readers want to read. They want good writers to produce good books that they'll enjoy reading. And writers want to write. But it doesn't pay very many writers enough money to give them time to write. The music business has, of course, faced this for years. Consumers - me! I'm guilty, too - don't want to pay. We expect our apps to be free, our internet time to be free. We expect to go onto YouTube and listen to that song right now, without paying. And some of us expect our books to be less than a cup of coffee, especially our ebooks. (And, to be clear - I am not innocent. I have a huge second-hand book habit, although this often acts as a gateway to new writers whose work I then purchase) I don't have the smart answers of how this gets solved. I only have the answers that work for me. That has meant a downturn in the amount of writing I'm producing. I'm not alone in that. If we ask people to divide their time, because they can't make a living, something will always be dropped. I'm lucky. I started writing as a hobby. My day job remains a focus. Which means I can do what I like with that writing time. (Writing to a market has never worked out for me, anyhow.) In deciding that the current model of writing is a sink hole of time that will never pay back, I'm able to return to writing for myself - which, today, has been a new Abendau book that seems determined to make itself known. What I wonder is it a model that readers are happy with replicated over the writers they love? Because it's not just me struggling to fit it all in. I also wonder where the industry goes. Do we end up with writers making their money from personal appearances rather than their writing? (I probably made as much last year from lecturing about writing, appearing at events, and adding-on skills of all sorts, as I did from book sales. This year, it looks like that will continue to rise and surpass sales money.) Do we end up with a market where the book is free but the add-ons aren't. Or one where the book price is higher but the value-for-money contained within more extended? Or, indeed, one writers will be generating their content on patreon-style accounts, available only for those who chose to invest?  |
JoZebwrites
Jul 5, 2017, 3:27:55 PM7/5/17
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Posted: 05 Jul 2017 03:53 AM PDT This, then, is my experiment. It follows on from my blog of last week about new models of writing, about how the current model does nothing to support writers anyhow. The process: I have no idea where this story is going. It's certainly not going to happen quickly but in between other stuff I'm writing. But, every so often, I'm going to be popping up chapters of this book, The Last Seer (read into that what you will. At some point my sub-conscious might even explain it). They will be early drafts, so don't expect sparkling prose, and any comments about where things are going, what is or isn't working, will be more than welcome. It's designed to be read by people new to the Abendau series, as well as those familiar with the original trilogy (although reading this first will give spoilers to the trilogy https://www.amazon.co.uk/Abendaus-Heir-Inheritance-Trilogy-Book-ebook/dp/B00VF6C1Q4, be warned). CHAPTER ONE Baelan stretched in the early-morning sun, heat already building around him. His hair, grown long as tradition demanded, was pulled back into a tight ponytail, making the skin on his face stretch. Some days he felt like an ancient placed on this planet, not a 25 year old unsure of his place, or their purpose in being. He closed his eyes and brought his hands onto his knees, striving for steady breathing, for acceptance. The thoughts of others in the temple came and went. He tried to do as his teachers had suggested, to make the thoughts part of the rhythm of his life, but couldn’t. They confused him. He had to fight the urge to yell at them to be quiet and give him peace. Instead, he continued breathing. He thought of the sun on the back of his arms, how it was warm. He caught the hint of spiced tea in the air and focused on it. Chabau blossom and wild honey, he thought. Traditional tastes of the temple, perched on llutha, a single rock high above the desert, overlooking the tribal plains. Acceptance, Baelan willed himself. Belief. Inner calm. His eyes flew open. It would not work. It had never worked. Thoughts invaded him, this time his own. His mind buzzed, wanting to be busy, wanting to use what had built within it. He stared down at the desert. One of the nomadic tribes had moved closer since yesterday morning, their tents pitched perhaps half a mile away. With one blink he could destroy their encampment. He could engulf it with sand or set it on fire. He could send the desert lizards into a frenzy against it. Wild excitement came to him, a dark wish to do so, but he fought it off. He stood, moving right to the edge of the meditation platform. He stared down at the sands, far below. He could not live like this any longer. He turned his back to the desert and took hold of two wooden struts set into the rock. He let them take his weight, leaning back, feeling the drop behind him. Carefully, not allowing his thoughts to move to what would happen if he did let go, the resolution that offered, he felt downwards with his right foot until he found the first step set against the cliff face. The wood was hot under his hands – by midday platform-time would be a trial every acolyte feared and yet faced when commanded in the service of Ankshara. The beloved mother had faced the desert heat, after all, had forged a way to survive: so, too, would her children. With care, feet flinching from the hot wood, he climbed to the bottom. He placed his feet on the sand. It, too, was hot, sliding under his soles as if it was alive. He took time, to be sure of his thoughts. If he took the next step, he would cut himself off from his family. His mother, with the tribes, half proud of him for his service, half fearful of losing him. She would be the hardest to turn from, and the easiest – for she, being of the tribes, would meet him in the afterworld. His father, infidel that he was, would never be met again. Baelan’s throat tightened. One part of him embraced never having to face the bitter sweetness that was his father’s relationship with him: the closeness that came from sharing so much of one another – his DNA matched his father’s to 97% - of knowing the same power. Only his father had ever understood – and it was he who’d managed to teach Baelan even the semblance of control he had. Had his father entered his life earlier, would it have changed things? If Baelan had learned to work with the power and accept it? Had he been nurtured as Kerra, his half-sister had been, would he be as happy as her, a Space-Pirate, running illicit Deep-Space jobs for high-paying clients? Perhaps. He’d never know. With the scant acceptance he had learned through two years in the monastery, he pushed the regrets to the side. The past could not be altered nor the future feared, but only met. The time to meet his had come. He made his way to the great hall, ducking through two rock-stacks, glad of the respite from the beating sun. He reached the end, by the entrance to the Great Chamber, and bowed to the statue of Ankshara. The words of devotion came easily, learned since childhood, when he’d whispered them to a different icon in a different church. The memory was enough to chill and unsettle him and he spent moments, hand on Ankshara’s shoulder, seeking strength, before he could make his way to the Great Chamber. His grandmother’s reign was no more; he worshipped the true goddess now. He crossed the hall, red dust swirling at his feet. His short-robe did not stir the sand into the frenzy of his formal garb, so the dust stayed around his ankles, caked to his skin. Walls loomed, following the line of the rock, reaching up to an ornately carved-out ceiling. Pictures of the first mother ship were picked out, of Ankshara herself, of the other survivors of the SpaceFall, stick thin and starving. He bowed before a long, low platform. Two men and a woman stared down at him. Elders, their faces sand-lined. “Have you decided?” asked Father Tabathna, the central figure. His voice was low, and mellow, kind when needed, demanding when not. Baelan bowed his head. This decision should not have taken him weeks to make, let alone months. It had been shining in front of him, demanding his action, since he had arrived. Fear had held him back. Not just fear. His lessons had taught him the need for inner truth, that a lie to oneself must always be challenged and met. The desire for power had held him back. His power was what made him special. The boy from the tribes born to a purpose. The boy who could turn his mind to magic. He breathed in and out, in and out, until he gave a sharp nod. “I have.” “And your desire is?” “My desire is that my power should be given to our lady Ankshara. That I should sacrifice the centre of myself for her.” Silence stretched, but it was a purposeful one, not unpleasant. The Elders were pleased at his decision. Ankshara had been honoured. It was the right thing to do, to close the power off from himself and learn to live without it, in this new life, removed from his past. His father had done so – so, too, could he. Why, then, did he fear it so much?  |
JoZebwrites
Jul 14, 2017, 2:53:39 PM7/14/17
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The Last Seer - chapter two: Space Princess Posted: 14 Jul 2017 03:05 AM PDT CHAPTER TWO – KERRA The planet hung below, a shimmering cast of sea and cloud. This was an old planet: Kerra could feel it in the bones of her body, in the dry aged knowledge of them. Silence hung around her, waiting her decision. “Anything from the planet?” she asked. “An old distress signal,” Rana said. He flashed her a smile, one that she knew the promise within, but she ignored him. A mission was not the time to indulge, no matter how pleasant that indulgement was. Especially a mission that she hadn’t filed a flight-plan for, had taken out of the mesh, and which had taken her far beyond the Seven-Stars. A mission she hadn’t, truly, expected to succeed in. Excitement bubbled. She’d spent the last weeks imagining returning to her father and telling him what she had achieved. This was his mission, although he did not know of it, carried out on the back of their last meeting, on a planet deep in the outer zone. Her father was so different to the one she’d known as a child. He may have fewer responsibilities but those that he had – that he added to each day – drained his energy. His face was thin – had always been so – and lined, as if the years spent under the baking sun of Abendau had stolen his vitality. But he’d been delighted to see her and had embraced her with the strong arms she’d always known. They’d stood as the sunset fell, a long, low one that seemed to last hours. The evening had been muggy, the day’s heat lasting into the darkness unlike in Abendau where it chilled in little more than an hour. “Do you ever wonder…?” He’d plucked a moon-flower, the plant that was slowly colonising the terraformed planets, bred for its toughness, genetially matched to each planet, a green fertiliser which would, in years to come, provide fertile ground that could be farmed and allow this – and so many other planets, brutalised and hard-worn from years under the Empress – to feed its people. He pointed upwards. “What’s up there?” She squinted, suspecting a trap. He knew she was a Controller. He knew she did not ask such questions. Even from the planet, her skills were so enhanced – and her place in the mesh so strong and assured – she could sense the call of the planet’s small satellite, the deep glow of this system’s young star. “Space,” she offered after a moment, when he didn’t go further. “What else?” He rubbed the moon-flower between his fingers, making its smell twine around them, musky and slow. “Where we came from,” he said. He turned to face her, his face in lean shadows. Would she ever know him? They were connected by the mesh, of course, but would she ever understand how he could be sitting with her today, sane and strong? She knew, as she never had as a child, what he had faced. But knowing did not bring the understanding of what it had taken to move past the hell he’d been forced into. “On Abendau,” he said, “they have a legend. About Anshara?” “The tribal necklaces?” she said. Talk of the tribes made her think of Baelan: where he was, and if he was all right. “They’re named after a tribal ancestor. That Anshara is supposed to have led the first people from the desert, to the waters of an oasis. They adore Anshara as a goddess. So much so, it was her image the Empress tried to make her own.” His words were flat, unemotional, as if the Empress was a distant reality, not the mother he hated and who had hurt him. “Anshara led her people from a ship, it’s told.” He dropped the flower and wiped his hands. “I’ve travelled most of the planets in the Seven-stars. I’ve spent a lot of time in the Outer zone planets.” He frowned. “Their people have a closeness to the old stories that many of the central planets have lost.” He checked off a finger. “Anshara, on Abendau.” The next finger. “On a satellite of Tortendiel, they have a temple to their past. Amazing place. It took me three days just to work through the index of the archive.” This, from Kare Varnon, whose mind took in data like a computer. “But, at last, I found it. There, they call it the Earth-ship. Their people, too, emerged from it.” Next finger. “On Ferran. Descendants of the Al-Halads. They tell the story of a dashing space captain, who … guess?” “Led their people from a ship?” She knew where this was going. He raised an eyebrow, and nodded. “Go on.” “The Roamers. We are descended from the great sky-ship that lies under the flooded waters of Syltte.” “Yes.” He ran a hand through his white hair, a sure sign he was engrossed in his train of thoughts. “I’ve traced the story to eight civilizations: the central stars and the Roamer planet. It varies a lot. Sometimes it’s a ship from the stars, sometimes a royal ship, sometimes a crash. But it was there, once I started to plot it.” Making links, doing what he was best at. He met her eyes. “We came from somewhere, Kerra.” “Somewhere?” “Somewhere up there.” He pointed again. “Another planet. Another place. Another time.” “So…?” She wondered if there was a reason he’d chosen this place to tell her, so close to the edge of the systems, far from any of the space hubs. Was it to keep his thoughts secret – he knew, too well, how information could be misused – or to make her believe. Because here, in this isolation, it was easy to believe. “So, I’d love to work it out.” He clapped his hands together, sending up pollen into the air, spreading the plants further. “I thought having another brain to pick might be useful. And that, perhaps, when you are travelling you could keep an ear out for any more links. After all, no one travels more than a Roamer.” The idea had taken seed, right then. He was right, no one travelled more than a Roamer. And no one else could fly without charts, or seek to find a planet that had never been mapped. That might not even exist. She could find it for him. She didn’t ask if he was right, if his research was correct. It would be, she knew. She craned her head back, taking in the stars, and she had cast out with her mind, searching for the pattern he’d found in writings and stories replicated in the stars. Now, some ten months later, she stared down at the blue planet, sure she’d found his Earth-cradle.  |
JoZebwrites
Jul 18, 2017, 2:55:42 PM7/18/17
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Posted: 18 Jul 2017 10:47 AM PDT I remembered this today. The original 300 word story that became Waters and the Wild
Song of the faerie. There's a boat on the beach and it’s not of this world. “Do you see anything?” I ask. Gary’s the most grounded person I know; he holds me where I’m safe. “Yeah,” he says. “Beautiful.” I hadn’t expected that. “Why here?” He shrugs. “Isn’t it obvious?” Yes. A faerie boat from the underworld. My breathing tightens. Prickles cover my skin, great welts that itch and fade a moment later. “Why now?” He puts his hand on my arm. “Amy, what do you see?” I point at the ark and it sings a faerie song to me. Gary holds me so tight that it hurts. “Amy, what is it?” I shake him off. Amy, amy, amy; a dangerous lullaby. I reach out and touch the ship, run my fingers over its rusted edges, take comfort in its solid form. “Amy!” He takes me in his arms and smells of coffee and orange. He kisses me, even though he knows I’m bad. “What do you see?” His voice, heavy with fear, rips through me and brings me back. I watch three kite-surfers tack the tideline, moving in tandem with the wind. That’s what Gary saw. Their sails were the faerie’s song, their shadows on the beach my boat. “Nothing. It was nothing.” I don’t meet Gary’s eyes, frightened I’ll be taken back to hospital and the mumbled voices of concern. That won’t happen; I’m better. It was one of my little moments, that’s all. “Let’s go.” He leads the way and I close my ears to the faeries' song, urging me do their bidding. I stumble, knowing I will be back, when it's moonlight and I'm alone. Because they're real and they want me and so they'll have me. Http://authl.it/7lt?d  |
JoZebwrites
Jul 27, 2017, 3:29:20 PM7/27/17
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Non-agented writers - how does that work? Posted: 27 Jul 2017 04:02 AM PDT Just last week, a great writing chum of mine, who knows his way around a bit of PR, commented that I'd done well to get as much visibility for my new book, Waters and the Wild, (you have bought ten, right? You should because it's getting the most awesome reviews) without being agented.
Let me very clear, right from the start. I wanted to be agented. I'd still quite like to be agented. This is not an agent-bashing blog, far from it. I am not anti-agents: it seems they're rather more anti-me. This is frustrating - my books have all done well, for being with indie publishers/self-published but, more to the point, the reviews are stellar. People, when they find the books like them and recommend them. But still the agented world and I are not linked, probably for the simple reason that my books and a big publisher are not seen to be a good match. Let's go back a couple of years. I was, as is quite common, agented for my second novel. I then received a publisher's offer on my first novel - on the trilogy - which was languishing without representation and the agent contracted me for it. So far, so great - a contract to get my publishing ears wet and an agent with an agency who state their commitment to their authors' careers. I had the next book pretty well finished (the book which just came out on Sunday as it happened) and the next underway. Productivity was not the problem, nor me being difficult, or any of that: the problem, as it happened, was that my output didn't quite fit with my agent's specialism. All of which happens everyday, everywhere, through the publishing world. Hey-ho, and there I was, no agent, a trilogy contract to see out, a book that hadn't sold and couldn't be repped and another that had been turned down by my existing agent and which would be a hard sell. All of which had taken up 18 months of my writing career. What to do? Well, I'm nothing, if not a pragmatist. I threw myself into the trilogy, decided to self publish Inish Carraig - the book wot didn't sell - and find a suitable home for Waters and the Wild. Whist I was at it, I'd look to write something else and then see where I ended up. And that's where I am at this week, with those five books out there on the market, and a growing writing career. I turned a decent profit last year. Not enough to jack in the day job, for sure, but more than many other writers are turning over. And yet, again, I am on my own, doing this without the support that would be very nice to have. Now some people, especially the brave souls who are prepared to work hard enough, smart enough and well enough to become successful self-publishers, don't want an agent. Don't want one, don't need one and think anyone giving away 15% of their earnings must be a bit daft. I don't really count myself in that mix. Partly because I don't work smart enough to become a successful - as in give up the day-job - self publisher and partly because there are aspects of being self published that I don't enjoy. Like formatting. And the drain on my time of little things. And also, partly, whisper it, I'd still quite like to have the dream of the big publishing contract and a little pile of my books in the window of lots of bookstores. And that's okay. To dream. Which means I'm actually doing a lot that falls under the traditional model and less under self-publishing. I'm dealing with bookstores (I'm in a few now), I'm talking to radio stations, I'm seeking funding, I'm getting myself onto people's reading lists and I'm slowly, but surely and determindedly (I know, I know, I'm an exhausting force of nature to those who I drag along into my maelstrom. The only defence I have is that people want to try working alongside Jane Talbot and they'd see I'm a lightweight whirlpool...) increasing my visibility. So, to the nitty gritties. What is hard about being an unagented author in a trad world? Well, I suppose contracts is one of the hairy areas. Sign a bad one, and you're facing a disaster. Sign your rights away and you could be finished as a writer. I have a couple of tools up my belt for this one. Firstly, I have the contract negotiated with my agent, which is a useful document to refer to. If any rights differ, I go and explore what they are and where I might be at risk. When in further doubt, I check - and getting a contract checked is cheap and safe for anyone. Join the Society of Authors, and for less than a hundred quid you can have it checked over. So, I don't see not having someone in my corner a barrier. (I don't doubt that an agent could get me a better deal, however.) But, what about promotion, I hear you ask! And there is no doubt it is harder without someone in your corner. But contacts can still be made and opportunities are still open. It's a barrier, but not insurmountable. And, lastly - how do you get a publisher without representation! The answer is two-fold. To get a big 6 publisher, and land that jackpot - it's very, very hard. Almost impossible. In fact, I'd suggest it's worth forgetting about in terms of it actually happening (on the basis that if it did, it would be a lovely surprise!) But one thing that surprised me when agented was how quickly my agent came down to publishers I could submit to anyway. In fact, it is one of the thing that made me braver when I did find myself on my own and, I have to say, I've had a very nice publishing journey with little stress and an end product that I'm very proud of. The agent route may still be the gateway to one dream: the big publisher, expanded distribution, the Disney-writer-dream. But they're not the only route to becoming a writer and getting books out there. And, yeah - I might sell more, but I have a lot of say over the product that goes out. I get consulted on pretty much every stage, from cover design, to editorial, to publishing calendar, to promotional activity. For someone like me who is used to autonomy within my workplace (I'm self employed for a reason...) that's really important. In fact, I worry that if that was taken from me - and I don't know how much it is, having never experienced being with a big publisher - if I wouldn't get a bit panicky about what was happening to my book-baby. All of which meant I felt it would be useful to blog and just say to those writers who haven't got an agent, or struggle to get one, or don't want one: don't worry. You can have a writing career without an agent. It won't the same career and the opportunities might not be as stellar. But it can still be a good career, with books you can be proud of under your name, some income, supportive publishers who believe in you, and respect from your peers (because I have never known any writer, no matter how big, to look down their nose at me. Ever. We all know how hard each other works, and that this is a difficult industry to break. Provided you are putting out good books, you'll get respect.) And, really, once you have that - and I do, in spades - then you're rocking it. You're a writer - just one striking out there on their own, and making it their own way. And there's absolutely no shame in that. My five tips for working without an agent: 1. Know your rights and where to get contracts checked (see above) 2. Know what you want from your publishing journey and stay true to that 3. Don't be afraid to reach out and ask for support. Don't feel just because you're an indie and you're not represented that you don't have value. Be proud. You've written a damn book. Join facebook groups that help with promo tips, network yourself as a writer. Don't hide away. 4. Don't be afraid to go for an agent if you have a project that you feels is commercial and suits one. I'm actively trying with my new novel, as it's a series and, if it did well, it would be better placed with a bigger publisher. My next project I plan to self publish. Who knows after that? Each project is unique and it's fine to do different things with each. 5. Enjoy the freedom! Being independent is something to be proud of and enjoy. We don't see self-employment as any worse than employment, if it's working. It's just something with a different lifestyle. Being unagented is a little like that.  |
JoZebwrites
Jul 30, 2017, 3:10:32 PM7/30/17
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When the Middle Ages and Modernity collide Posted: 30 Jul 2017 09:00 AM PDT Today I'm joined by Thaddeus White, one of my favourite indie writers. His new book, Traitor's Prize, a sequel to Kingdom Asunder came out this week. It's his fourth novel in that world, mixing the fantastical and a realistic version of a medieval world, guided but not constrained by history. Even then, there are some conflicts between what most people think today (or how they perceive the medieval world) and what actually happened and this blog is an interesting one, exploring that. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mercy and brutality is a difficult area to try and grasp. We live in a very civilised world (not perfect by any means, but compare it to a time when beating a pig to death was considered a fun game and it’s not hard to appreciate the difference). There were often strong reasons to exercise mercy or be brutal in medieval warfare. The former could encourage people to switch sides, knowing they’d get a warm embrace and not a noose. The latter could terrify towns into immediate surrender, fearing total devastation if they resisted and failed. But these things could work in reverse, too. Get a reputation for brutality, and it could spur a town to resist at all costs, as the Black Prince discovered in Gascony. Accept turncoats, and you may weaken the fealty of your own men, because they know if they rebel and fail they might still survive. Sieges and battles were less common than chevauchées. Essentially, these were glorified cavalry raids that involved burning crops, killing (and raping) commoners and generally doing both economic harm to an opponent and making them appear too weak to protect their subjects. This was especially unpleasant because chivalry, which did exist and was a very powerful social force, particularly in the 12thand 13th centuries, only applied to the upper class. An English or French knight captured by his social peer on the other side would almost always be well-treated, and ransomed back. If that same knight were caught by peasant soldiers, they might sell him on to a knight/noble (who had the clout to negotiate a full ransom) or just hack him to pieces. However, chivalry wasn’t universal. At the Battle of Evesham, the future Edward I (then a prince) ordered no quarter given or prisoners taken, and a large number of nobles were slaughtered. Similarly, as king campaigning in Scotland, Edward ordered a pair of noble female captives to be kept in wooden cages on public display. On a more practical note, plate armour is a lot more effective than is commonly portrayed. Arrows usually bounce off, cutting through it is nigh on impossible and beneath is mail and then a gambeson (quilted jacket). Hence the part of the plot upon which the cover is based, with a dagger through the eye slits of a certain someone. At Agincourt, conditions were terrible. Rain had turned the field to sludge, and many French knights fell and either drowned in mud or were on their backs and couldn’t get up. English archers (peasants, and, as noted above, outside the rules of chivalry) did in many a French knight by stabbing through the eye holes or wrenching off helmets to slit throats. An inglorious end, but had the archers been caught by the knights they would also have met ill treatment. Magic aside, Traitor’s Prize follows the first book in the trilogy (Kingdom Asunder) by taking its lead from medieval history. Sometimes this can mean harsh measures, but it can also lead to surprising mercy. Just as we face modern dilemmas in warfare/security when it comes to rules about drone strikes, how to combat terrorism, and other matters, so did medieval leaders.  Traitor’s Prize is the second book in The Bloody Crown Trilogy and is currently discounted at £2.32. Kingdom Asunder, the first book, can be found at: Thaddeus  |
JoZebwrites
Aug 5, 2017, 2:50:50 PM8/5/17
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Posted: 05 Aug 2017 04:02 AM PDT Sometimes the going - at anything - gets tough. In my day job (a management consultant when we're being swish, a management nerd when we're not) stickability is identified as a key requirement in the modern workplace and one not always met.
I think I'm quite lucky with my stickability - which is, I think, sometimes mistaken for drive. It has been my long-held belief that trying hard is only one part of the equation - keeping trying is the other, and bigger, part of success. Of all the areas of my life where sticking at it has been most needed, it is with writing. I've set up a business and that was easier than finishing a novel, and then a trilogy, and then more novels. Honestly, getting an agent only to lose them (careless I know) led to probably one of the most bleak days of my professional life. Sending out the emails to tell people what had happened, letting the news out on Social media, was all hard enough to make me slink off. And yet I didn't. I brought the book out proudly and loved every moment doing it. I sold the book the agent had rejected and loved every minute of its publishing journey. And, last week, I started subbing agents in earnest again. I got close to the dream last time - why not again when my writing skills are more honed and my profile higher? Why give up when I can try again? It's not just me who does this. My writing timelines are cluttered with people who have had knocks but are still writing, and who will still be writing when their moment comes knocking. Because just about every successful writer will have had to grind out a hard time to make it. My tips then, blended from management knowledge and my own beliefs: 1. When you get a knock back remind yourself how much you have still achieved. I lost an agent? So what! I hit one in the first place so I must be good enough. 2. Don't expect instant gratification. In this age of easy celebrity it's easy to hold we, too, will be lucky. But we might not be. We might have to graft it out instead. 3. Give yourself time. It's taken me 2 years to finally feel ready to get back on the query horse. Knock backs hurt. They need reflection time. 4. Get encouragement. No one is strong enough to keep going alone. Steve Covey calls it 'yoking-up' to share the burden. And when others have it tough - support the back. 5. Challenge the negative thoughts that come from discouragement. Change them to positives and move forwards, not back. Regrets will take you nowhere; fear of it happening again will freeze you forever. And lastly, keep at it! No one can finish you as a writer except yourself :)  |
JoZebwrites
Aug 11, 2017, 3:22:33 PM8/11/17
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Posted: 11 Aug 2017 05:37 AM PDT I have so many writing thoughts whirling through my head that I haven't even titled this blog yet. I'll see what explodes first, before I do.
The sort of things that have been traipsing through my mind this week are related to the writing business, to brand and markets and to reviews. Perhaps the three are linked. If so, let's see -and then we might have a title. 1. Brand. I am brand Jo Zebedee, just like every writer is brand xyz. But brand Jo Zebedee is a bit mixed up at the moment. There is sf writer, who writes Abendau, there's a YA writer, who wrote Inish Carraig and a few other unreleased goodies in that demograph (and never markets themselves as YA, one of the biggest book markets there is) and there's the Irish writer, who writes fantasy with an Irish touch that would probably appeal to that market. Which means that, when someone moseys off to my author page, my range is becoming increasingly confused. Do I expect a lover of Abendau to love Waters and the Wild - probably not. There are parallels between the two works, of course, but there are differences to. When I blogged privately about this on a forum this week, the lovely Juliana Spink-Mills put it thus: 'Your strength has always been writing crossover fiction that is a little bit of this, and a little bit of that. A SF thriller that isn't quite YA or adult. A space opera trilogy that is more about character than actual space. A dark literary gem that can be seen as fantasy or psychological thriller." Which means that brand Jo Zebedee might be a mixed little bag of work. Or it might mean that it should be more than one brand - like when you pop in for your groceries and coffee goes under decaff and filter and those odd little pod things. If I did mix it up, I suspect I might end up with something like Iain Banks, only more complicated: Jo Zebedee - fantasy stuff J C Zebedee - Space Opera stuff (which would have the added benefit of removing my gender as the author of the book and all the residual marketing challenges of that) J Zebedee - Young adult stuff - or retain the two names above and slot the YA in by genre and just make it clearer on the covers. You see the headache I'm having. Anyhow, I haven't made a decision yet. Apart from anything else I'd need to liaise with my sf publishers and see how they feel about it. Still. It's a possibility. So, that was musing one for the week. My second musing was around reviews and the impact they do, or don't have on sales, and where reviews' impact ends and word-of-mouth starts. Again, I don't have an answer for this but increasingly I'm leaning towards word-of-mouth being the more valuable. Amazon does not give a stuff how well my books are considered, but about how many people are clicking and buying - and they have the right to do so. It's their space they're using to sell my books. But it does beg the question: if your books aren't visible, what's the use of reviews in terms of drawing new readers in (not in terms of turning a casual glance to a buy, for instance, which is a different scenario.) I don't know if there has been any sort of study done into all that, but more and more I'm saying to people - it's not just about reviews (not just for me, this is a general musing for all writers) but the times you mention it on forums, or to people, or at conventions, or wherever. So, really I'm wondering if we have this whole marketing thing ass-about-face by insanely chasing reviews.(Not that I'm a crazy review chaser anyhow) And, now... the third thing. Just how lucky I feel not to have to write for a living. (I should really have milked all this and got 3 blogs from it....). How lucky I am to have another job that brings in the pennies. Because I cannot write commercially and feel the same satisfaction as when I write whatever happens to turn me on right there, right then. If I was a full time writer I'd have to have my eye on the income all the time. I think that works fine if your work does fall under a defined marketing arena all the time. And I think it also works fine if you have the skills set to bang out words professionally when required, or can do a multi-income stream writing career: scriptwriting, and editorial, and screen adaptations, and ghost writing. To be frank, I'd rather keep the day job that switch it to something like that. I love writing - but it's my own stuff I like writing. I'm lucky that if I write something that bombs, it doesn't matter. I'll still eat that week. So, there we go, three little things that sum up some of the thoughts of a not-quite-struggling writer this week. Brand, reviews, working for a living. Which doesn't help at all with coming up with a title....  |
JoZebwrites
Aug 18, 2017, 2:56:29 PM8/18/17
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Posted: 18 Aug 2017 08:00 AM PDT I've never talked about the importance of reading to being a writer. It's something I hear mentioned all the time, that you can't be a writer if you don't read. Now I don't like can't statements and I am sure there are writers who buck the trend. But, for me, reading and writing go hand in hand. I was the child who walked into a lamppost because I was reading. Who has missed many, many train stops. Who brings anticipated reads on holidays because it's a treat to have time. I read - everywhere. In the bath, in the bathroom, in bed, in the car. I read the back of cereal packets if I have nothing else. I also don't always read science fiction and fantasy but I have read a lot. For instance, I say I'm not a big epic fantasy fan but I've made my way through Lord of the Rings, some Sanderson, Rothfuss. I've read Grimdark (ironically far from my favourite genre, although I like the humour), portal fantasies, young adult stuff, mythic stories, Irish stuff, all kinds of fantasy. For science fiction I love Space Opera best (and that shows in Abendau) but also writers like Clarke and Heinlein. Ironically, since Abendau has military characters, I don't read much military sf and have a very good beta to thank for keeping my characters on the straight and narrow. But I also read, in no particular order, drama scripts, plays, horror, crime, mystery, chick-lit for want of a better word, literary, magical realism, the odd bit of romance, ghost stories, trashy fun. In fact I think the only genre I haven't tried at least once is Westerns, and I keep meaning to do so. This means that the genre definitions that currently define our bookshelves irk the living hell out of me. I get why they exist - I used to be a bookseller, I understand stock control and display and space conundrums - but they still irk me. I love it when I find a small library where books are just A-Z and take my pick. They irk me even more as a writer. From two perspectives, and one I covered last week: I don't find it easy to write in a single narrowly defined genre. I know my books don't just appeal to genre fans but have wider appeal once tried (except Abendau. A love of Space Opera is useful for it, I think.) That people shoehorn them as sff and not to be tried annoys the living hell out of me (especially for Waters and the Wild that is as much a fiction about families and mental health as a fantasy). But that's not the rant I want to embrace today. They irk me because I think in not reading widely my writing toolbox* would be less varied. I write romance a little in my books and I'm comfortable doing so when the need arises because I've read just enough romance to know what touches might work (a certain look, or the physical signs that move me.) In fact, a couple of years ago I picked up The Bridges of Madison County and learned more from that read about physicality and showing it than in anything else. Want to know how to handle gore? Try Val McDermid, or Robert Galbraith. Want to know how to reveal a mystery? Then read a mystery. Want to know about space battles? Peter F Hamilton's short stories helped me with this (because his books are dauntingly huge for me!) The Thornbirds did family intrigue across generations astoundingly well. So, for me, writing is about reading. And varied writing is about varied reading. And I don't think genre shoehorning helps with that variation. Here endeth the rant. :) *For those not familiar with the Toolbox, go read On Writing by Stephen King who equates writing to a plumber's toolbox. You carry as much as you could possibly need, and know how to use it, so that when you writing you have the skills and knowledge needed for every scene and sentence.  |
JoZebwrites
Aug 25, 2017, 2:50:47 PM8/25/17
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Posted: 25 Aug 2017 07:35 AM PDT Currently, I hate the sight of my work in progress. It’s not its fault. It’s a nice piece of work and one that I’ll enjoy going back to at some stage. It’s just a stage in the process. For me, the writing process goes something like this: I have an idea. It’s a great idea. I can’t wait to write that idea – and if I have to wait because I’m finishing something else, I’ll hate that.** I’ve just hit 20,000 words and there is no more story in me. I’m looking at a scribbled page of notes in the hope I’ll work something out. I think I’ll grab ten coffees and see what happens. This is really, really crap. Like horrid. Take my keyboard off me and get me out of this misery. Okay, it’s better than I thought. This is great! I can sub it to anyone and they’ll say yes! Oh, damn, why did I sub that? How could I ever have thought anyone would go for that piece of crap? I’ll just fix it. Oh, now it’s in a mess. This makes no sense! I’ve lost all sense! I hate this thing and never want to see it again* Oh, now it’s okay. Now I’ll edit it and hone it and it will be beautiful. And only at that last part does it become, for me, a viable, completed projected. *This is me, today. I have 30 more pages to go. Here goes. I’m going in…. ** This is Abendau 4 with me currently. I want to write it. The angels are singing. I have an idea. It’s a great idea. I can’t wait to write it.  |
JoZebwrites
Aug 31, 2017, 2:57:38 PM8/31/17
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Posted: 31 Aug 2017 08:12 AM PDT Last week, I had a bit of a small muse about being at a frustrating part of the writing process. This week that book has not progressed further, although I hope it will very soon. Instead, I took a break and went off to write something else. That something is the book I hope to become Abendau 4. Now, this is an odd little book, in the sense I have no real idea if there is an appetite for more in that world. It’s also a challenge because I hope that people could also start the series with this book. There is a reason for that. A cunning reason that mostly goes like this: Abendau’s Heir is, judging by reviews and my own gut instinct, my weakest book. That stands to reason as it was the first book I wrote. However, the other two books in the original trilogy are strong. Now, there are many series I’ve read where the first book didn’t do it for me (Bujold and Jodi Taylor come to mind) but I went on to love the rest of the series but this is the digital age where, if a book isn’t quite what we want we can now go back and change it. I could rewrite the slow section. Except that I believe it is needed for full understanding and to give the context to the character arcs of the three existing Abendau books. Which is why I wanted to write a new trilogy that could standalone. Which is also why I intended to use two point of views from the next generation to open with. As ever, my best laid plans didn’t quite come to fruition. The voices lacked the story-frame to give a hook. The chapters were nice but not quite filled out. At which point, I decided to write chapter three. This chapter was planned to be from Lichio, outlining the latest chapter in the Most-Unlucky-Protagonist’s Story. I began to type. Lichio began to talk. That slightly lazy, ever so slightly self centred tone was unchanged. Easily, he set enough of the context, with a simplicity of approach that I’d forgotten I could do. His chapter, and the maturity of his thoughts opened the story up. And, like that, the angels sang. They hit the roof joyfully. They planned the next three chapters. They allowed me a few days to mature that to let me finish The New Thing. And, quite suddenly, all is right with my writing world.  |
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