Thursday, 6 December 2012

Published in the Deck the Halls anthology

I'm rather pleased to announce that I have a story in yet another anthology! In addition to my story, A Girl's Best Friend, in Best of Friday Flash: Volume Two, and Anonymous in the Penny Dreadfuls Halloween Special, I now have Apprentices to Time in Deck the Halls: Festive Tales of Fear and Cheer.

The story appeared online in its original form a couple of years ago in answer to a prompt - Emergent Publishing were putting together a collection of stories, each of which took a line from Deck the Halls as a story prompt. My line was 'Fast away the old year passes' and I chose to write a story about New Year. It was also the first time I introduced my female Death character, who you might remember from some of my Friday Flashes (particularly New Year's Dance, about my Captain Scarlight character). She's become a bit of a favourite of mine, and it's rather awesome to be able to share her story again, albeit revised and updated!

The blurb on the Emergent website runs thus;

DECK THE HALLS traverses the joy and jeopardy of the festive season, from Yule to Mōdraniht, Summer Solstice to Years’ End. The stories journey through consternations and celebrations, past, present and future, which might be or never were.

Along the way you’ll meet troll hunters, consumer dissidents, corset-bound adventurers, a joint-toking spirit, big-hearted gangbangers, an outcast hybrid spaceship, petrol-toting politicians, mythical swingers and a boy who unwittingly controls the weather.

Heart-warming and horrifying, the collection is a merry measure of cross-genre, short fiction subverting traditional notions of the holiday season.

It's available from the Emergent Store as a PDF, mobi or epub file, and you can order a good old-fashioned paperback too. Go on, get yourself an early Christmas present...

Friday, 30 November 2012

#FridayFlash - A Little Flutter


Ever since I was a kid, I was always that idiot shouting "I bet you anything that..." Couldn't start a sentence without it. The missus used to watch all the soaps, and I was forever shouting bets about what characters would do next. Used to drive her mad. She'd stick a tenner in my hand and send me down William Hill, just to get some peace.

So anyway. It's a Tuesday afternoon, and I've been sent home from work. Quiet day, like, nothing else to do. Boss figured he'd save himself some money. I reckon I'll give Susan some peace, so I go off down the bookies. I'm £30 down after an hour but it's early yet so I'm not leaving. Reckon I'll win it back, you know? Anyway. I've just put a tenner on Buford's Chase and he's running well. Like an idiot, I start shouting, "I bet he wins!"

Damn thing loses so I start shouting that I bet the race was fixed, always "I bet this" and "I bet that". One of the girls behind the counter brings me a cuppa and asks me to pipe down, so I do. For a while. Eventually I start mumbling to myself, I bet I could win back my £40. I reckon it'll be easy, if only I pick the right horse. For a second I think about the one armed bandits but I know they're fixed.

So anyway. I'm looking through the listings for the next race. I don't have a system, not really, and by this point I'm just picking names I like. This guy comes up to me, so quiet I don't hear him until he clears his throat. He's dressed a bit funny, in a three piece suit and carrying a cane, but you get all sorts down the bookies, so I think nothing of it. He leans over and says we should make things interesting. I tell him I'm just trying to win back my £40, and hope he'll go away. He gives this big smile, all white teeth like those insurance people on the telly. Says that if I bet on Faust's Hubris and it wins, he'll give me £10,000. If it loses, this geezer gets my soul. I reckon he's a nutjob but I look up the horse, and the odds are good so I fling in a bet. Only a tenner, mind. Susan'll kill me if I lose any more than £50. That'd be worse than losing my soul - my missus has a right mouth on her when she gets riled up.

Anyway, the horse runs well, and I reckon I might be close to winning. I don't think the crazy will pay out £10,000 but the odds are 4 to 1, so I'll at least win £50. I can go home and Susan'll never know. Faust's Hubris is out in front, but the stupid thing falls in the last furlong. I'm halfway through shouting "I bet the race is fixed" when the guy puts a hand on my arm. His fingers feel red hot but I can't pull away. He's got me firm. Next thing I know, the bookies has gone and we're standing in a huge cave. A lake of lava takes up the middle, and I almost faint when I see people swimming in it. They leave trails of fire in their wake and they're screaming in agony but they just keep going. I try to run away but no matter how far or fast I run, I never get anyway. Just keep running on the spot like those joggers at the traffic lights.

I don't know how long I've been here but I watch the swimmers all day long. Every hour, and I know it's an hour because I counted the seconds once, this horned thing comes by and forces me to bet on one. No matter which one I bet on, it loses. Nothing happens to me, I don't lose any money 'cause there's none to bet with, but the frustration is killing me. I've tried everything - systems, patterns, all sorts, but I always lose.

I've never seen the man in the suit again, but I think about him from time to time. I sometimes think back to that day in the bookies, and the more I think about it, the more I could swear I saw him flick his wrist just before Faust's Hubris fell down.

Thursday, 29 November 2012

Good Grammar Kills No One

I couldn't help but share this infographic, courtesy of Copyblogger...

15 Grammar Goofs That Make You Look Silly
Like this infographic? Get more content marketing tips from Copyblogger.

Wednesday, 28 November 2012

The Joy of Reading


I wrote a post over on Write Anything about the joy of reading and I wanted to expand a little on my points and personalise my words, in part to contextualise them and also to explain where I'm coming from.

In the post, I say that it's vital that writers read in their genre in order to know its conventions, and to ensure their work avoids falling into the 'parody' trap. For example, I can always tell when someone has written a steampunk story without having read any steampunk because they include the major stylistic elements, but without any of the 'punch' that puts the punk into the genre's name. Steampunk is more than just brass and cogs. If you read enough of the genre, you'll know what to include - and what to leave out. You'll also know what's been done before.

I also say that it's important that writers familiarise themselves with how other writers use language, but in essence, it's important that writers understand how to string words together. I've read a wide variety of work from a range of periods, genres and writers and I like to think it's influenced the way that I use language. A lot of novice writers write in the way that they speak, but it's important to

Yet there's more to it than that. Reading should be enjoyable. If reading a book feels like a real chore, then ditch the book. Life is too short and there are too many books in the world to waste your time reading crap. I can honestly say that ever since I got my Kindle, I've definitely been reading a lot more. I've divided my reading time between the free classics such as Phantom of the Opera or Jane Eyre (which I'm currently reading), and the books I've bought that are written by my writer friends. I read those texts related to my PhD while commuting, but when I want to get some reading done before bed, out comes the Kindle.

A lot of people say, somewhat piously I think, that they'll never give up real books, usually quoting something about the smell/feel of a physical book, but as far as I'm concerned, a book is a book, regardless of the medium. I love the smell of physical books as much as the next person, and I'd happily live in Barter Books in Alnwick, but my Kindle means I can carry many books in my bag, instead of one, and it's a lot lighter than most paperbacks. OK so a book will never run out of battery and it's not the end of the world if a book gets wet, but having my Kindle has really altered how much, when, and where I read.

Plus it looks awesome in its Frankenstein case.

Friday, 23 November 2012

#FridayFlash - The Dead Do Listen

“I can’t believe you made me do a tour of a catacomb. It’s morbid. No, it’s sick, that’s what it is.” Celia stepped over a small puddle on the cobbled floor. Her foot skidded on the thin layer of moss spreading across the stones.

“Shut up, it’s interesting,” replied Kaye. She hurried to catch up with the small group further down the corridor.

Four thick shelves ran the length of both walls; each held a row of coffins in various states of disrepair. Iron grates or concrete slabs covered some of the loculi. Celia shuddered to think what lay inside the makeshift tombs.

The guide stopped beside an iron grate on the second shelf down. Beyond it lay a narrow coffin. Rot had chewed through the outer oak shell, leaving the lead lining exposed at the end nearest the bars. An illegible plaque hung above the lock.

“This here is the final resting place of Lord Theodore Mountrose. He was a right nasty bugger, according to the gossip of the day.” The guide rapped on the rusty iron grate.

“Really? What did he do?” asked the woman nearest the guide.

“What didn’t he do! He came from a very wealthy family, and was the youngest of four. Some say he was spoiled by his mother, who refused to acknowledge anything he did,” replied the guide. “He fathered his first bastard aged fourteen, with one of the house’s scullery maids. Six months later, she and the child were found dead, drowned in the lake behind Mountrose Hall.”

“Did he kill them?” asked Kaye. Celia elbowed her; it was bad enough she’d had to come on this tour, she didn’t want Kaye drawing attention to them.

“The locals certainly believe he did. By the time the maid died, two more of his father’s maids were in the family way. Both of them died before they could even give birth.”

“What happened to them?” asked a tall bald man. He clutched a dog-eared map of the cemetery.

“One of them jumped off the roof of the house, the other one mysteriously tripped and fell onto a pitchfork. After those scandals, he just got worse. He went from school to school, causing trouble wherever he went. He tried to force his older sister into an incestuous relationship, and she ended up poisoning herself. And-”

A loud knocking interrupted the guide. Soft at first, the gentle rap became an impatient thump. The group looked around the corridor, trying to locate the source of the noise. The guide started back towards the central tunnel. She called to the catacomb warden. Only Celia stared at the coffin behind the grate, her mouth agape.

“Excuse me, you out there! Excuse me! I really do beg to differ!”

The lead lining muffled the voice, but there was no escaping the fact that Lord Mountrose wanted to set the record straight.

* * *

The Dead Do Listen was originally published by Everyday Weirdness in June 2010, and appears in my short story collection, Checkmate & Other Stories. It collects fifteen of the stories I had published between July 2008 and June 2010. You can find it for 99c at Amazon US and Smashwords, or for 77p at Amazon UK.

Monday, 19 November 2012

[Guest Post] Stepping clear of a black hole


If you want to get published, and you don't want to put out your work yourself, then you really have no option but to query agents, or small publishing presses, to find the one that suits you. It can be a nightmare process, and there have been rumblings online about discontent within a particular independent press who doesn't have the money to pay author royalties. I've asked the very awesome Nerine Dorman to give some advice on what to do - and, more importantly, what not to do, when sending out your work into the big bad world of publishing...

* * *

So, you’re treading the submissions mill, looking for that literary agent or publisher of your dreams are you? Working your way through Publishersmarketplace.com or a following up on names you found at the Absolutewrite.com forums?

Yes, it’s a disheartening process. If an agent or a publisher even bothers to get back to your query, (less than half most of the time) there’s a fair chance you’ll receive a polite form rejection of “Dear Mary Jane, we thank you for your query, but…”

That wonderful word: BUT. It doesn’t get any easier the longer you’ve been in this game and yes, we know this isn’t a personal but, blah blah blah, face it, sweetie, are you really the industry’s next EL James or Ms Meyer? What agents and publishers look for is highly subjective. There’s no getting around that. That’s why you need to query widely.

Often, when an agent or a publisher does come back to you with a “Dear Mary Jane, we are delighted to inform you…” it’s easy to rush into signing away all your rights without thinking, and end up taking the short end of the stick at the end of the day.

This post is beyond the scope to give exhaustive details of all that can go wrong. (Just go check out http://www.sfwa.org/for-authors/writer-beware/ as a basic picture of all the horrible pitfalls.) But I am going to give you two very important pieces of advice most new authors ignore. 1) DON’T RUSH INTO SIGNING ANYTHING. 2) DO YOUR BACKGROUND CHECKS BEFORE YOU QUERY.

And, in case you’re wondering, no, I didn’t listen to this advice either when I was first starting out. Luckily the agent that I’d briefly had (who wasn’t right for me, BTW) let me down nicely. We’d really been wasting each other’s time. Here’s a mantra: No agent is better than a bad agent (paste a little post-it note somewhere on your desk for that one.)

Before we got a wee bit distracted, let’s get back to those two aforementioned pieces of advice which should be branded onto your left and right hands. That way you can see the words when you type. Actually, even better, do your background checks BEFORE you even get to the point where you’re going to have to sign anything. Look at it this way, if you’re picking an agent or a publisher to query, it’s kinda like getting into a relationship with another person. You don’t want to entrust your baby to a remorseless gun-wielding gangster, do you?

Nope, didn’t think so. So the process of querying can look something like this:

1) Make a list of agents/publishers;
2) Go read each agent/publisher’s submission guidelines. Are they open for submissions? What genres are they looking for? Who are their clients? When was their most recent sale/release?

If an agent/publisher doesn’t have any recent activity, it’s a reason to be suspicious (sure, sometimes they’re tardy and they don’t update their sites, but rather be safe than sorry). That’s when I go to two websites. Preditors and Editors might not always be up to date, but there’s still loads of information there. Go check up your chosen agent/publisher. Then, run a search on the Absolute Write forums. Don’t see what you’re looking for? Sign up and start a thread. See what sort of answers you can turn up. Everyone who is anyone in the publishing industry pretty much hangs out there from time to time.

Still don’t know anything? Proceed with caution, and if said agent/publisher seems too good to be true, they probably are. Another golden rule: If anyone asks for money upfront, RUN AWAY AS FAR AND FAST AS YOU CAN. Just don’t go down that road. A reputable agent/publisher will never charge you money for services like reading your manuscript, or editing it, for that matter.

Lastly, one of the best things you can do is make friends with other authors. This will happen in places like Absolute Write. Find out about authors’ good experiences and their bad, especially in the chosen genre that you’re writing. They’ll be able to tell you how royalty payments work, which publishers are good about communicating with their authors, which aren’t.

The hallmarks of a good publisher is a company that will provide you with value-added services. Nowadays it’s not career suicide if you decide to self-publish. Maybe your book is hard to classify, or you might already have a niche you can market to. Just remember, without a publisher, there’s a lot of stuff you’re going to have to do yourself (like cover art, editing and formatting).

So, there are loads of publishers you can still approach that don’t require you to have a literary agent. Check out Duotrope.com for potential markets. Remember to do your background checks.

The publishing industry is changing at a rapid rate nowadays. It pays, therefore, to keep up to date with news. Follow agents and the editors of your favourite imprints on Twitter or subscribe to their blogs or newsletters. Keep yourself informed, so that the choices you make aren’t harebrained. You’ve spent ages polishing that manuscript. You really want your novel to be the absolute best when it eventually gets released into the world.

Bio: Nerine Dorman is a South African editor and (mostly) dark fantasy author. She is the editor of the annual Bloody Parchment short story competition and anthology (eKhaya/Random House Struik), among other projects. Authors are welcome to query her for her editing rates at nerinedorman@gmail.com.

Friday, 16 November 2012

#FridayFlash - Shallow


Candles burn low on the table, the remains of dinner still clinging to the plates. Music plays in the background, some arty jazz rubbish I don't recognise. We occupy the sofa, all arms and legs. She tucks a strand of long green hair behind her ear, leans in and gives that knowing smile.

"I'll just slip into something more comfortable."

Eight words later, she's decked out in a scrap of black satin and lace, ink on show in the few places it's not covered by Agent Provocateur's finest. She was a good find at the club, one of my best yet. Hardy's doesn't seem her kind of place but I'm not going to question it when she's sat on my lap.

Three months on, we're sat on the sofa. She's telling me about her day, only I'm not really listening. I'm thinking about that slip of a negligee, wondering when she'll get it out again. She tries to get my attention, but I'm too busy ignoring her new black bob. She tries to tell me she's getting a promotion. I smile but I don't mean it. I suppose this promotion means more business suits and sensible haircuts.

She shifts position again, tugging at the waistband of her skirt. It's grey and sexless, but she tells me it's designer. Some Italian guy whose name I can't pronounce. A white blouse covers most of her tattoos, and delicate silver studs replace the hoops and spikes in her ears, now hidden by that awful hairdo. She leans toward me.

"I'll just slip into something more comfortable."

My heart leaps to think of the black negligee and I settle myself on the sofa. She comes back downstairs in a faded sweatshirt and mismatching pyjama bottoms. I take one look at the fluffy slippers and I forget why I'm there. She goes into the kitchen to put the kettle on and I take the opportunity to leave. I won't be back.

I think I might stop in at Hardy's on the way home.