Nether

My short story titled "Nether" has recently been published in the digital magazine ParSec, and as usual I'm blogging a few words about how the piece came to be written. There may be spoilers within.

"Nether" is one of ten stories which I've written on the subject of grief. These will appear in a short collection titled "Tokens Of Grief" which has been accepted by a publisher that I am not yet at liberty to name (more information on this once contracts are signed). The inspiration for the collection as a whole unfortunately came about due to the death of my father in February 2025. Whilst I appeared to accept this eventuality at the time, it really hit me in October that year and subsequently the devastation relentlessly ploughed through me. What else is a writer to do but assimilate that grief through fiction, to find a creative cathartic path to the other side? However I didn't want to limit myself with stories about grief of the loss of a loved one. There are other forms of grief that we eventually inhabit, after all.

"Nether" is the story of a relationship break-up, where the male of the couple is struggling to understand his partner's motivations. The grief of that kind of separation is very real indeed, but - as you'll have guessed from the cover of ParSec #16 above - this is also an SF story, and within my story couples are physically attached upon marriage, one side of each bonded to their partner's, in the manner of some Siamese twins. Therefore a decision to subsequently separate not only invokes the usual emotional responses, but also a physical detachment. Couples often refer to their partner as 'my other half'. I decided to explore what would happen if this were literally the case.

Here's an extract:

Nether was a word that had been appropriated for divorced couples. Not in the most common definition of lower, but the previously lesser used inferior. The number of inferiors were on the increase, Beth explained, the word no longer held the stigma that it used to. Thomas couldn’t shuck from his head the image of being torn apart by wild horses. They had eaten separate meals that evening, watched different movies wearing headphones. He could already predict the insidious ways in which Beth might incrementally shift them apart. This wasn’t paranoia, it was happening. He had read reports where couples had separated unofficially, usually by violent means, but even in acquiescence there was no solace. Waves of grief began to wash through him in otherwise tender moments. Beth’s fingers inadvertently touching his, positioning their leg on the pouffe, the warmth that flowed between their joint blood vessels. Previously – the day before, even – such interstices had filled his heart with an inordinate amount of exquisite joy. Now they were bittersweet, tarnished, yet remained unavoidable. He could hardly go into the next room.

Regular readers of this blog will know I usually listen to music through headphones whilst writing. In this case, I didn't listen to music, but Deep Layered Brown Noise on YouTube.

In addition to articles, book reviews, and other comment, ParSec #16 features stories by Daniel Bennett, David Cleden, Eugenia Triantafyllou, Teika Marija Smits, Dev Agarwal, Dafydd McKimm, Reggie Oliver, and Cécile Cristofari. To reiterate, ParSec #16 is available to buy as a digital magazine here

Somnambulant Hearts

My thirteenth collection of short stories, "Somnambulant Hearts", was published last month by Black Shuck Books. The collection contains seventeen short stories, mostly centered around the 'liminal space of the in-between' (or however slipstream is being defined nowadays). In keeping with most of my short fiction, much is alluded to rather than fully stated. Out of those stories, fifteen have been previously published and two are original to the collection. For this blog post, I thought I'd focus on the two stories which are new. Story notes for the others would have appeared on this site when they were first published, should you wish to seek those out.

Onto the originals. "Sundowning" refers to the condition which those with dementia can suffer from, whereby heightened confusion, anxiety and agitation can occur later in the day, perhaps due to fatigue. My story depicts a relationship where one of the couple becomes less lucid as described, their dementia worsening to the point where recognition lapses. However, there is a framework to the story that indicates the relationship was not what it seemed. What is it like to understand something about your past but are no longer able to redeem the future? This is the crux of that story.

An extract: 

We walked the seafront at Cromer. She leant into me. The warmth of our bodies connecting at this midway point, where Siamese twins might be conjoined. It was a burgeoning spring day, the 23rd March 20__. It was over a year and two months from our initial date. Midweek, out of season, the sea seemed aware. We stopped and leant against a railing, tiny traces of rust and flecked white paint transferring to our coats, and sought the horizon. Rose’s gaze held halfway, as if a pane of glass halted her vision somewhere within the view. My eyes were drawn to the pier: that wooden extension to the land which resembled a King Canute dare. Come and get me if you think you’re hard enough. But there was no battle to be won against the sea. I remember thinking how long it would take for the world to reclaim itself from mankind, should something ever happen to us. I pressed into Rose. A pressed Rose. Like something found within the pages of a journal. Nothing would ever happen to us.

The departure point of the second original story, "Inversion Layer", came whilst watching the TV show Bargain Hunt. There was a segment within the show where the presenter visited a model village which is an exact replica of the village in which it is sited (at Bourton-on-the-Water in the Cotswolds). The real village is replicated in detail, so much so that when businesses are renamed then the corresponding signs are changed in the model village. Inevitably that threw up a lot of story ideas, and coupled with a brother who doesn't exist, it became quite straightforward to move the story into an interesting direction.

An extract:

He could visualise his brother here. Perhaps he would have rented one of the rooms in the Old New Inn itself, unlike Ben and Gemma who were lodged in the outskirts. There was a ten per cent discount on lunches if you combined the village with the pub. He was sensible like that. Would have thought ahead. Ben wondered if the discount applied to those who stayed in the model village itself. In the miniature version of the Old New Inn there was also a model of the model village, and within that model another model. This was what fascinated him the most.

He dropped to a crouch. Gemma’s hand on his shoulder, steadying him.

“What have you seen?”

It was an odd question. One that didn’t deserve an answer. In each of the two churches, choirs were singing. Ben wondered whether in addition to changing shop signs the residents were also updated whenever someone moved in or out. It seemed unlikely, but the concept nagged.

I should mention that in both the stories above, and, thinking about it, in quite a few of the other stories, the main male characters are quite unpleasant and find themselves caught in realities not wholly of their own making; although in addition there are many stories with much more positive outcomes. The title of the collection comes from the story "My Somnambulant Heart", which seemed to fit the book's themes as a whole.

"Somnambulant Hearts" is available as a paperback or e-book from Black Shuck Books. Pick up a copy in either format here.

Best Experimental Short Film (Armadillotown)

A couple of months ago I blogged here about the making of my short film, "Armadillotown", mentioning that it had made the final selection in the upcoming Sykehouse Film & Writers' Festival. That festival took place over the weekend of the 16th-17th May, and the film was premiered at the event. Despite my initial trepidation, the film found an enthusiastic audience and I had some lovely feedback. It was such a brilliant, well-organised event, perfect for my first showing of the film!

Then to cap it all off, later that evening "Armadillotown" won first place in the Best Experimental Short category. Which was an absolute blast!

photo credit © Terry Scott

My thanks to organisers Samantha Lee Howe and David J. Howe, plus the judges, and everyone else who made it such a great weekend. Bookings are open now for the 2027 festival and I would encourage everyone to sign up for the event. I had a great time mixing with other filmmakers, writers, actors, and so on, in a relaxing and creative setting and I highly recommend it. Sign up for next year here.

The Good Men

My short story titled "The Good Men" has recently been published as a single story chapbook by Salò Press, and as usual I'm blogging a few words about how the piece came to be written. There may be spoilers within.

Whilst Salò Press is better known as a poetry publisher, they have dabbled in short stories from time to time and recently decided to develop an imprint dedicated to single short story chapbooks under the name of The Infidelites (their poetry imprint is The Flirtations...). Confession time, my partner, Sophie, runs Salò Press, however she asked me to submit something and after two rejected stories she chose this one (so not quite nepotism in that regard). The other stories launched simultaneously are by James Cooper, Aliya Whiteley, C.A. Yates and Dan Coxon.

"The Good Men" is one of a series of stories I've written riffing off French New Wave cinema (my other stories published in this series include Mont Blanc, Betaville and Hiroshima Was Another Word For Love Then). In this story, my starting point is the 1962 Claude Chabrol film, "Les Bonnes Femmes", but with the genders reversed and the action relocated from a Parisian domestic appliance store to a Birmingham garage; although you don't need to know the film to appreciate the story.

Here's an extract:

The Kia has leather seats that smell of freshly mown animal.

She has her hand on his knee as they exit the outskirts of Birmingham, only lifting in a motion to change gears. This Sunday morning is clement, but overcast. Grey predominates as though they are driving through black and white film, although Jacob reminds himself that there was always colour, just not the equipment to record it.

Some kind people have said the following:

The Good Men possesses a raw, jump-cut poetry and a sense of barely restrained existential crisis. The disaffected, somewhat lost characters seem to be searching for something that can never be found. The New Wave reimagined as the last wave as they are subsumed by inertia and ennui. - Gary McMahon, author of The Grieving Stones

In The Good Men, a superb switchback ride of a story, Hook displays yet again his mastery of the form, marrying a cinematic aesthetic with an admirable sense of control and economy, creating a subversive gem. - Andrew Humphrey, author of Debris

Hook observes his characters like a cinematographer. The words convey, in precise and telling detail, the mundanity of self-oppression. These mechanic(al) lives are full but paradoxically empty. The story is driven by sensuality and pursuit but somehow, behind the mask, it aches with a longing and an undefined sadness. - Stephen Volk, author of The Good Unknown

Regular readers of this blog will know I usually listen to music through headphones whilst writing, and this entire story was written whilst listening (perhaps unsurprisingly) to Paul Misraki's score for Les Bonne Femmes.

To reiterate, "The Good Men" is available to buy as a standalone short story chapbook for £5/£9 over at Salò Press

 

Union City - published

As readers of the blog will be aware, my book on the 1980 film, "Union City", starring Dennis Lipscomb, Deborah Harry, Everett McGill, Irina Maleeva, and Sam Murray was recently made available for pre-orders. I'm glad to report that the book is now published and is shipping. This was an absolute labour of love for me. Look how beautiful it is!

Pop on over to the PS Publishing website now to grab a copy for only £20. The first 200 copies will come with a free signed 'cinema ticket'.

Armadillotown

Although I've been writing fiction for many many years, my thoughts have only occasionally turned to filmmaking, usually deciding that it's too complex a business to get into, and being wary of relinquishing editorial control. There was a period a couple of years ago, however, where it was more to the forefront of my mind, and I was trying to think of ways to bring a short film together with the minimum involvement of others. Not because that input wouldn't be valuable, simply because I wanted to attempt something that I wouldn't find too daunting. This came to a head when my partner, Sophie, bought a Mantelly brand kids instant print camera. This cute device thermal prints black and white images similar to receipts. I realised that if I took some pics and strung them together - similar to a montage - I could create a film not dissimilar in style to Chris Marker's "La Jetée" (1962), in which a voiceover narrates the story against a set of images. Using that as the central conceit, I began shooting images locally, mostly of brutalist buildings, interspersed with photographs of myself in a latex full head armadillo mask which I knew would come in useful someday (doesn't everyone have one of these at home?)

"Armadillotown" began life as a novel shortly after my partner bought me that mask one Christmas, however I never progressed beyond the first thousand words. I had an idea of an unlikely billionnaire wanting to create a utopia, a city where there is full employment, little crime, where everything is catered for - with one proviso: that the citizens have to wear an armadillo mask at all times except when completely alone. I would then have a detective from outside the town called to investigate a missing persons case, with the tagline being "The job was a missing persons case. But how do you find someone in a city where everyone looks the same." I can't recall why I never progressed with that novel, but those first thousand words subsequently formed the basis of the screenplay. As it turns out, having since made the film I've returned to the novel idea and written a thirty thousand word novella-isation, expanding the premise, but that's another story.

Taking photos with this child's camera brought the concept to life. The images are naturally grainy black and white, perfectly suited to a noir sensibility. Realising that it might be difficult writing a script and then shooting images to match it, I adopted a hybrid approach, capturing images that I thought would work in a film, writing the scenario around them, and having fleshed out the story then taking photos to order. This ensured I could remain within my capabilities. Armed with over three hundred photos and the script, I edited them in Photoshop where they became even more low-res as a result, and then I downloaded some editing software (Movavi Video Editor) which was free and would enable me to add effects, music and the voiceover, and for which I would only need to pay the minimum of one month's subscription once the film was completed and could then be downloaded into a viewable format. This method allowed me to keep any costs very low. The entire film comes in at less than £50. The film itself is just over fourteen minutes long.

Whilst editing, I recorded myself reading the script for pacing and collaging the images, but it was clear I needed someone professional in this role and so I approached Paul Robinson, an actor friend of mine who works under the name Sam Heydon. The addition of his voice greatly improved the rough draft I had. Another friend, Tom Jarvis, whose current band are The Widows, offered me some film music he'd been tinkering with, plus one song from the band which was mostly an instrumental. That song, "Crossfire", plays at the opening and end of the film. In both cases, these additions were incorporated by myself without either Paul or Tom seeing the film until it was completed. I was cautious of letting anyone see the film at all until I was happy with it, but through serendipity both their contributions fit perfectly.

"Armadillotown" falls into the category of an experimental art film, which was my intention, with a strong story pulling the viewer through to an existential ending. My PI doesn't resolve the case, but simply acknowledges that it would be redundant to do so. As commented by someone who has viewed the film, my PI goes into Armadillotown with the intention of finding someone, but ends up losing himself.

Once the film was completed and I received good feedback from a select audience I had to decide what to do with it. I could have simply thrown it up onto YouTube, but I wanted to do things properly and so began approaching film festivals via FilmFreeway. It soon became clear to me that submitting a film to a festival was no different than trying to place a short story or a novel. No matter how good (or bad) something is, the competition is fierce. However, persistence is everything and I've recently been notified that "Armadillotown" is a finalist in the Best Short film awards run by the Sykehouse Film Festival. There will be a screening as part of the festival - on Sunday 17th May - which I'm looking forward to attending.

Not being a filmmaker, as such, I sometimes have the feeling that showing my film to film folk is akin to proudly displaying a model made out of sticklebricks to a group of builders and architects, but as all feedback has been positive it does seem that "Armadillotown" has merit. What would be ideal would be for the project to gain traction, and perhaps for the novella-isation to be optioned for a larger picture. I can see a lot of potential in this idea, and hope to push it forwards. Either way, I've enjoyed applying my mind to something different, and hope once the festival circuit is exhausted that I can then release the film in some way to a larger audience.

For the moment, here's a very brief trailer.

Union City - signed 'cinema ticket' inserts

With publication of my monograph on the 1980 film, Union City, imminent, I thought I'd share a photograph about the signed 'cinema tickets' which will be included as inserts within the first 200 copies sold. I rattled through these last weekend and they have been returned to the publisher, so hopefully it won't be long before the books have been printed and will be posted with them inside. I'll update this when I receive my copies, but in the meantime feast your eyes on these little beauties.

Union City is available to pre-order exclusively from PS Publishing (via their Electric Dreamhouse imprint).