This is one of those writerly blog tour things where I've been tagged by another writer to discuss three things I don't write and three things I do, and where I'll pass on the baton to another three writers to blog their own thoughts. Needless to say, all these writers' blogs are worth reading and so is their writing. In my case, Stephen Palmer tagged me, and without further ado here are my responses:
Three Things I Don't Write:
Politics
It's rare that I touch politics in my fiction because I don't find the subject matter lends itself towards imagination. The closest I've come is my short story, "Beyond Each Blue Horizon", which appeared in an anthology supporting writers in Sierra Leone, and "The Opaque District", an austerity story which will appear in the forthcoming "Horror Uncut" anthology. Generally, though, I leave politics well alone. I find that political stories can be clichéd, preachy and tend towards the polemic.
Revenge
Many horror stories focus on revenge, from beyond the grave, jilted partners, townsfolk retribution and that kind of thing. Me, I think life's too short for revenge - both in reality and in fiction. And again, these kinds of stories tend to inevitably fall into cliché: the revenge turns sour or misguided or something nasty happens to the 'right' person and that's it and no more. Because my mind isn't attuned to revenge, I find I avoid it in fiction.
Excessive Gore
I'm not a fan of gore for the sake of gore, and whilst I have written some disturbing fiction I like to think that at the bottom line horror should be concerned with relationships and the things that can go awry in a realistic manner, rather than down the torture porn route. The same applies to monsters - give it a rest. And the number of stories where someone's eye is gouged out never really convey the absolute horror of the act. Sometimes words are not enough, and with excessive gore they really demonstrate anything other than the paucity of the writer's imagination. Hence my avoidance.
Three Things I Do:
Immortality
This is a theme I find myself coming back to over and over again, no doubt because I am absolutely terrified and appalled by the concept of my own death. Having no belief in an afterlife I get stone cold fear contemplating my demise and using themes in my fiction of immortality probably equates to my own security blanket whereas others might have religion or spirituality. My longer works all deal with immortality: in "Moon Beaver" the title character is on the run from it ("if you lose track of time, time will lose track of you"), in "And God Created Zombies" the main character has it without realising it, in "Ponthe Oldenguine" I deal with the immortality of fame, and in my crime novel "The Immortalists" two crime lords chase immortality as a pelican might chase a dead fish. Yup, immortality is my bugbear and I need to attain it (preferably by dying, and not through my work - to paraphrase Woody Allen).
Identity
"Identity is the crisis can't you see" (Poly-Styrene). The meaning of identity has always interested me: who are we, who we are, and how our identity changes dependent on those we interact with. I see identity as something fluid and transmutable, not set in stone. Examination of identity within fiction is always intriguing because the characters are a construct of the writer, and the writer can therefore hold back information in much the same way as a real person retains secrets. I believe it's impossible to know much about other people and just as difficult to know a great deal about oneself outside of the routine social system we decide to fix ourselves within. So dealing with themes of identity is always to the fore in my work.
Reality
Reality is something else that intrigues me. Quite simply, what is it? I don't have the answer to that question, although it's a certainty that each individual's reality is quite distinct from another's. Reality can be fascinating to explore within fiction, not only because you can create the character's world but also by the examination of the world we think we live in. As you can tell, I find reality to be a nebulous concept: the only surety is that there are no sureties. I'd be hard pressed to confirm the existence of anyone or anything other than myself. That's why reality is such a fun concept to play with. Particularly when an individual's reality can change melodramatically at the drop of anything at all.
I hope that's been interesting. I've chosen to tag two writers, Douglas Thompson and Gio Clairval to take the BlogHop further. Enjoy!
Monday, 19 May 2014
Thursday, 15 May 2014
Genius
The word genius is often banded about quite arbitrarily, and I've been thinking about who I consider fits such a description and what the word actually means.
There's the literal definition of course. The Oxford English Dictionary defines genius as "exceptional intellectual or creative power or other natural ability". However I would qualify this with: "unprecedented amongst the subject's peers". Because if you are a genius within a group of geniuses do you remain a genius?
Simone de Beauvoir said: "One is not born a genius, one becomes a genius", and I agree that nurture rather than nature plays a role in creating a genius; but that also society dictates what is considered to be genius. What might be astounding for some, will often pass others by - and this doesn't just apply to individuals but to stages of history. So the following represent my definition of genius. And because I'm more attuned to the arts over science (or anything else) my pick of geniuses will be restricted to those working within that medium.
(un)Popular Music
There are those who get The Fall and those who just don't understand music. Mark E Smith understands both. This is one instance where it's almost impossible for me to describe why I think Smith is a genius, because for me he just is. It's not sycophancy on my part. The Fall are not my favourite band; their music can be difficult and alienating. Yet I do consider alienation to be an essential part of what makes a genius, because a genius within the arts tends to be someone who doesn't fit with an established norm. My definition of genius would also include someone who remains true to themselves in the face of opposition. Smith clearly fits that role.
As a runner in the music category I would choose Howard Devoto. Lyrically and stylistically brilliant, he would also consider himself a genius.
Art
Dali, of course, was a self-proclaimed genius. And he was right. Having seen many of his paintings close up the detail and perfection is incredible. For those who don't understand his work or are critical of his intent, I would argue that this is a trait that dogs geniuses within the art world: misunderstanding by the ignorant. Additionally, I consider genius is a trait which reflects in the mind of the recipient: genius is recognised by an almost religious glow of appreciation and the sensation that you have come home. This is certainly the case for me with Dali's work, but also why I find it difficult to explain why genius is genius to someone whose connection to the artist isn't as strong.
I don't get the same buzz from other artists, but whilst Gunther von Hagens doesn't consider his plastinations of human bodies to be art they also speak to me in a way that shouts of genius.
Comedy
Bernard Miles described Spike Milligan as "a man of quite extraordinary talents...a visionary who is out there alone, denied the usual contacts simply because he is so different he can't always communicate with his own species..." I would suggest this statement often applies to genius in the arts - someone who is not actually before their time, but at odds with it. Milligan, like Dali, knew he was a genius but retrospectively whilst he is acknowledged as such, the lack of his material currently available commercially is criminal. Whilst programmes laud him as the godfather of modern comedy there are few examples actually available for modern audiences to view. This is shameful, because the surrealistic delight his TV shows exhibited are true indications of genius. Milligan took comedy to pieces and rebuilt it in his own image. Similar to Tex Avery's cartoons, Milligan exposed the artifice around a sketch and brought it into the audience.
The runner-up for me is Stewart Lee. Lee is most certainly a genius who understands comedy, who constantly berates his audience, and is superbly clever in the (de)construction of his act. And like Milligan, he has no contemporaries who are even close to doing what he does.
Film
Another maverick with a singular, persistent vision: film director Jean-Luc Godard. One of the father's of French New Wave cinema and latterly a chronicler of cinematic history, whose movies are always thought-provoking, often difficult, are peppered with breathtaking audacity, and who sparkles with genius. As with the other examples he has sometimes had great commercial and critical success but resolutely remains outside the mainstream and adamantly exists to persist in his own goals. As an innovative, controversial, fiercely intelligent filmmaker with a career spanning five decades Godard is incomparable.
I was going to include Buñuel as runner-up but on reflection whilst I think much of his work is genius I don't think it elevates him in the same way as it does Godard. Instead, I'm plumping for an equally controversial filmmaker who works by his own rules: Lars Von Trier. Justifiably, I believe he is a genius in the making.
Literature
I've found choosing a genius for literature harder than the other categories, despite fiction being my personal preference over the other arts. This is because it's less easy to evaluate an author's body of work in one fell swoop: your eyes can scan a series of paintings or quickly evaluate comedy or film, but reading the back catalogue of a writer can take time. I've found I love the work of Paul Auster, but I can't call him a genius from reading two books (although I suspect that he is). Murakami also appeals, but some of his works are duds. Tom Robbins is a favourite of mine, but a genius? - it would be a hard case to argue. And what of those authors who might only have written one book - no matter how brilliant it was - can they be judged on a sole work? I've therefore decided that for me there are no runner's-up here, but for his achievement sustained over many books, there's one clear winner: Vladimir Nabokov.
"I knew I had fallen in love with Lolita forever; but I also knew she would not be forever Lolita."
Nabokov understood the beauty of words and his adoration of them sustains the genius in his writing. His works aren't consistent, but where he hits the nail on the head he totally hammers it home: "Pale Fire," "Bend Sinister", and of course, "Lolita". Sometimes you have to pause, gasp a breath, and re-read before moving on. Nabokov's intellect can outweigh the reader, but persistence quickly reveals the genius through the words. He's fun, playful, deadly serious and committed.
If anything, writing this blog has confirmed how certain I am about the genius of these individuals; yet I'm also aware that aesthetics are subjective and for some people Mark E Smith's rants and often unintelligible lyrics, Milligan's sheer nonsense, Nabokov's imposing intellect, Godard's perceptive vision and Dali's masturbatory landscapes would not only be considered negatively but also as an affront to popularity. Good. Because it's also said that it takes a genius to know one. Do you know one?
There's the literal definition of course. The Oxford English Dictionary defines genius as "exceptional intellectual or creative power or other natural ability". However I would qualify this with: "unprecedented amongst the subject's peers". Because if you are a genius within a group of geniuses do you remain a genius?
Simone de Beauvoir said: "One is not born a genius, one becomes a genius", and I agree that nurture rather than nature plays a role in creating a genius; but that also society dictates what is considered to be genius. What might be astounding for some, will often pass others by - and this doesn't just apply to individuals but to stages of history. So the following represent my definition of genius. And because I'm more attuned to the arts over science (or anything else) my pick of geniuses will be restricted to those working within that medium.
(un)Popular Music
There are those who get The Fall and those who just don't understand music. Mark E Smith understands both. This is one instance where it's almost impossible for me to describe why I think Smith is a genius, because for me he just is. It's not sycophancy on my part. The Fall are not my favourite band; their music can be difficult and alienating. Yet I do consider alienation to be an essential part of what makes a genius, because a genius within the arts tends to be someone who doesn't fit with an established norm. My definition of genius would also include someone who remains true to themselves in the face of opposition. Smith clearly fits that role.
As a runner in the music category I would choose Howard Devoto. Lyrically and stylistically brilliant, he would also consider himself a genius.
Art
Dali, of course, was a self-proclaimed genius. And he was right. Having seen many of his paintings close up the detail and perfection is incredible. For those who don't understand his work or are critical of his intent, I would argue that this is a trait that dogs geniuses within the art world: misunderstanding by the ignorant. Additionally, I consider genius is a trait which reflects in the mind of the recipient: genius is recognised by an almost religious glow of appreciation and the sensation that you have come home. This is certainly the case for me with Dali's work, but also why I find it difficult to explain why genius is genius to someone whose connection to the artist isn't as strong.
I don't get the same buzz from other artists, but whilst Gunther von Hagens doesn't consider his plastinations of human bodies to be art they also speak to me in a way that shouts of genius.
Comedy
Bernard Miles described Spike Milligan as "a man of quite extraordinary talents...a visionary who is out there alone, denied the usual contacts simply because he is so different he can't always communicate with his own species..." I would suggest this statement often applies to genius in the arts - someone who is not actually before their time, but at odds with it. Milligan, like Dali, knew he was a genius but retrospectively whilst he is acknowledged as such, the lack of his material currently available commercially is criminal. Whilst programmes laud him as the godfather of modern comedy there are few examples actually available for modern audiences to view. This is shameful, because the surrealistic delight his TV shows exhibited are true indications of genius. Milligan took comedy to pieces and rebuilt it in his own image. Similar to Tex Avery's cartoons, Milligan exposed the artifice around a sketch and brought it into the audience.
The runner-up for me is Stewart Lee. Lee is most certainly a genius who understands comedy, who constantly berates his audience, and is superbly clever in the (de)construction of his act. And like Milligan, he has no contemporaries who are even close to doing what he does.
Film
Another maverick with a singular, persistent vision: film director Jean-Luc Godard. One of the father's of French New Wave cinema and latterly a chronicler of cinematic history, whose movies are always thought-provoking, often difficult, are peppered with breathtaking audacity, and who sparkles with genius. As with the other examples he has sometimes had great commercial and critical success but resolutely remains outside the mainstream and adamantly exists to persist in his own goals. As an innovative, controversial, fiercely intelligent filmmaker with a career spanning five decades Godard is incomparable.
I was going to include Buñuel as runner-up but on reflection whilst I think much of his work is genius I don't think it elevates him in the same way as it does Godard. Instead, I'm plumping for an equally controversial filmmaker who works by his own rules: Lars Von Trier. Justifiably, I believe he is a genius in the making.
Literature
I've found choosing a genius for literature harder than the other categories, despite fiction being my personal preference over the other arts. This is because it's less easy to evaluate an author's body of work in one fell swoop: your eyes can scan a series of paintings or quickly evaluate comedy or film, but reading the back catalogue of a writer can take time. I've found I love the work of Paul Auster, but I can't call him a genius from reading two books (although I suspect that he is). Murakami also appeals, but some of his works are duds. Tom Robbins is a favourite of mine, but a genius? - it would be a hard case to argue. And what of those authors who might only have written one book - no matter how brilliant it was - can they be judged on a sole work? I've therefore decided that for me there are no runner's-up here, but for his achievement sustained over many books, there's one clear winner: Vladimir Nabokov.
"I knew I had fallen in love with Lolita forever; but I also knew she would not be forever Lolita."
Nabokov understood the beauty of words and his adoration of them sustains the genius in his writing. His works aren't consistent, but where he hits the nail on the head he totally hammers it home: "Pale Fire," "Bend Sinister", and of course, "Lolita". Sometimes you have to pause, gasp a breath, and re-read before moving on. Nabokov's intellect can outweigh the reader, but persistence quickly reveals the genius through the words. He's fun, playful, deadly serious and committed.
If anything, writing this blog has confirmed how certain I am about the genius of these individuals; yet I'm also aware that aesthetics are subjective and for some people Mark E Smith's rants and often unintelligible lyrics, Milligan's sheer nonsense, Nabokov's imposing intellect, Godard's perceptive vision and Dali's masturbatory landscapes would not only be considered negatively but also as an affront to popularity. Good. Because it's also said that it takes a genius to know one. Do you know one?
Tuesday, 6 May 2014
Softwood
I've just received my contributor's copy of La Femme, an anthology published by NewCon Press, featuring my short story, "Softwood". As usual I'm blogging about the genesis of the story for those who might be interested. There may be spoilers for those who haven't yet read the work.
This is one of those strange instances where a story was written for one anthology and instead appeared in another, both as a result of how the story grew and also because of the direction the publisher decided to take the project. When Ian Whates at NewCon Press suggested I write a story for the noir anthology he was publishing I jumped at the chance. The proviso was that it should feature a strong female character, a femme fatale. As I've been writing a lot of noir at the moment (including, of course, the novel I am perpetually plugging), it seemed an easy write. As it happens my first attempt - or rather, the here's one I made earlier attempt - fell flat, and I had to get my thinking cap on.
"Softwood" was a title I had for a while but didn't know where to take it. Was it a character's name, a place, a state of mind, or a metaphor? I needed something to take it further and this occurred when I became aware of numbers stations. Quite simply, these are radio stations characterised by unusual broadcasts, usually the reading out of numbers by female voices, whose origins and purpose are unclear and with which governments deny any involvement. Immediately I sensed some kind of spy story, with a femme fatale at the centre of it, but the character I began to write didn't tick the fatale boxes - although gradually it appeared her alter ego did...
The story went on to merge these broadcasts with the trace of the supernatural through electronic voice phenomenon, whereby the secrets of Softwood aren't so much the broadcasts themselves but what can be picked up within the broadcasts. Or is this true at all? Had the enforced co-operation of my female character in a pseudo-government session unhinged her to the extent that she couldn't interpret the truth in anything?
I submitted the story to Ian knowing that the piece had diverged from the noir/femme fatale angle and whilst I had one (or was it two?) strong female characters I hadn't really met his requirements. And this is where Ian informed me he'd decided to create two separate anthologies, one titled "Noir" and the other titled "La Femme" and my story would be perfect for the latter book. Result!
This is one of those strange instances where a story was written for one anthology and instead appeared in another, both as a result of how the story grew and also because of the direction the publisher decided to take the project. When Ian Whates at NewCon Press suggested I write a story for the noir anthology he was publishing I jumped at the chance. The proviso was that it should feature a strong female character, a femme fatale. As I've been writing a lot of noir at the moment (including, of course, the novel I am perpetually plugging), it seemed an easy write. As it happens my first attempt - or rather, the here's one I made earlier attempt - fell flat, and I had to get my thinking cap on.
"Softwood" was a title I had for a while but didn't know where to take it. Was it a character's name, a place, a state of mind, or a metaphor? I needed something to take it further and this occurred when I became aware of numbers stations. Quite simply, these are radio stations characterised by unusual broadcasts, usually the reading out of numbers by female voices, whose origins and purpose are unclear and with which governments deny any involvement. Immediately I sensed some kind of spy story, with a femme fatale at the centre of it, but the character I began to write didn't tick the fatale boxes - although gradually it appeared her alter ego did...
The story went on to merge these broadcasts with the trace of the supernatural through electronic voice phenomenon, whereby the secrets of Softwood aren't so much the broadcasts themselves but what can be picked up within the broadcasts. Or is this true at all? Had the enforced co-operation of my female character in a pseudo-government session unhinged her to the extent that she couldn't interpret the truth in anything?
I submitted the story to Ian knowing that the piece had diverged from the noir/femme fatale angle and whilst I had one (or was it two?) strong female characters I hadn't really met his requirements. And this is where Ian informed me he'd decided to create two separate anthologies, one titled "Noir" and the other titled "La Femme" and my story would be perfect for the latter book. Result!
Monday, 28 April 2014
Twenty Years Of Short Stories
I realised recently that my first published short story, "Pussycat", celebrates its 20th birthday this year. It's a mind-boggling piece of news to get my head around because it (almost) literally feels like yesterday. I certainly can't place where the intervening years have disappeared to, which is frightening and thrilling simultaneously. However, it did make me wonder which were my favourite stories that I've written between my first published story and the most recent that I've sold. With that in mind I've decided to blog a few thoughts on my favourites. If you read this and are interested, then a list of my published works are on my website. But here are my top 7, in order of publication:
1. "Pussycat" (published in the Science of Sadness anthology from Barrington Books, March 1994)
If I recall correctly this wasn't my first actual acceptance, but it was the first to be published. I still enjoy this piece - and its publication made me understand that what I had been writing was 'slipstream'. Publication in "Science of Sadness" made me realise I was part of a new breed of writer working on the interstices between the genres and that I had found not only a home for the piece, but also a home for myself. I'm still particularly pleased how this story segues through it's three strands, once even changing scenes mid-sentence. I'm a post-post modern man.
2. "Alsiso" (published in The Alsiso Project, Elastic Press, January 2004)
It's interesting that I've chosen a story ten years after my initial publication as my second choice. Hopefully that means I consider I'm getting better as I get older. "Alsiso" was written for an anthology that I edited for Elastic Press (a publishing company I was running at the time) where all the stories were titled Alsiso - the anthology won the British Fantasy Society award for Best Anthology 2004. The genesis behind that idea is a long story, but the crux of the choice here is that my "Alsiso" featured a PI called Mordent with a bubblewrap fetish and was my first crime story. Not only did it spawn several other stories featuring Mordent, but my also recent novel, "The Immortalists", and two follow-up novels (at least one of which, "Church of Wire", will also appear from the same publisher late 2014/2015.
3. "Vole Mountain" (published in Nemonymous #4, May 2004)
This story could be counted as a "reader's choice" because I've had a lot of feedback from various people citing it as one of their favourites. It's also a story I've chosen to read at various events. It's a simple piece about identity and loss and what makes us who we are. My partner, Sophie, pointed out recently that 'vole' is an anagram of 'love' and knowing this actually adds a hidden depth to the piece I hadn't realised. This story was initially published anonymously in Nemonymous together with a story I had co-written with Allen Ashley. In the history of Nemonymous I'm therefore proud to be the only person with one and a half stories published anonymously in the magazine. The magazine came with a pure white cover.
4. "Beyond Each Blue Horizon" (published in The Book of Voices, Flame Books, March 2005; and also in Never Again, Gray Friar Press, September 2010)
This is one of my favourite stories. One which I believe I 'upped my game'. The denouement of which came solely out of a dream where I opened the curtains of my home to find that the city had disappeared around me. There's a political slant to this piece which is intentional as I wrote it specifically for the Book of Voices anthology which was published to support writers in Sierra Leone. That angle also meant it got republished in Never Again, an anti-fascist, anti-racist anthology. I wrote this about it at the time: ‘The genesis of this story originated in a dream whereby the denouément came to me complete. It was such a striking image that I knew I would have to use it in a story. The opportunity to develop it came with a call for submissions for the Book of Voices anthology (Flame Books, 2005), which was published to support the Sierra Leone PEN organisation—part of the international organisation which promotes literature and human rights. The Sierra Leone PEN was established to reinvigorate the diminished writing community after the civil war and encourage those writers who remained to play an active role in society. I decided to explore the scenario of inaction, whereby absolving responsibility or distancing ourselves from potentially harmful political situations makes us just as culpable and detrimental to the force for good as those who wish to violate us.' And I also liked the title so much I used it for my third collection of short fiction.
5. "Your Golden Hands" (published in PostScripts, PS Publishing, May 2011)
I love this story. It's a powerful piece about exploitation of one country/world over another and is another favourite for me to read at events - usually reducing my partner to tears by the time it's finished. Some stories have their own internal engine, and this is one of them. It's also one of the first stories I wrote in one sitting, which is typically how I now write all of my short fiction.
6. "Bullet" (published in Black Static #34, May 2013)
Again, this is another personal favourite merging Kafka with a lost detective novel, a missing person, and incorrect maps. I have a fondness for it because some of the story originated from a dream and I was happy that the finished story captured exactly the sensations I was hoping for. I'm also pleased that I sold the story exceptionally quickly, which is always a nice feeling.
7. "The Last Mohican" (to be published in punkPunk!, DogHorn Publishing, sometime in 2014)
I'm very much a product of the punk era, even if for much of the time I was a little too young to appreciate it fully. I've known for a while I have a punk story inside me, one that encapsulates my feeling of the period mixed with my formative years growing up, and I personally feel that I've written it perfectly in this piece to the extent that I can't read the ending without it having an intense emotional impact. The idea is simple, instead of war heroes displaying their medals on Remembrance Day, why not have punk veterans celebrating the last of their numbers in a world transformed by the movement. Having written this story, and not finding a suitable outlet to place it, the piece also inspired me to suggest editing a punk anthology for DogHorn Publishing, and that book will appear later this year. (I didn't select my own story for the book, but editor Adam Lowe agreed it deserved a place in it).
So that's my top 7. Twenty years after the appearance of "Pussycat" I've now sold my 119th short story, "Flytrap", to Interzone (marking my first appearance in that magazine). It really does feel that I'm currently working at the top of my game. Here's to the next twenty years!
1. "Pussycat" (published in the Science of Sadness anthology from Barrington Books, March 1994)
If I recall correctly this wasn't my first actual acceptance, but it was the first to be published. I still enjoy this piece - and its publication made me understand that what I had been writing was 'slipstream'. Publication in "Science of Sadness" made me realise I was part of a new breed of writer working on the interstices between the genres and that I had found not only a home for the piece, but also a home for myself. I'm still particularly pleased how this story segues through it's three strands, once even changing scenes mid-sentence. I'm a post-post modern man.
2. "Alsiso" (published in The Alsiso Project, Elastic Press, January 2004)
It's interesting that I've chosen a story ten years after my initial publication as my second choice. Hopefully that means I consider I'm getting better as I get older. "Alsiso" was written for an anthology that I edited for Elastic Press (a publishing company I was running at the time) where all the stories were titled Alsiso - the anthology won the British Fantasy Society award for Best Anthology 2004. The genesis behind that idea is a long story, but the crux of the choice here is that my "Alsiso" featured a PI called Mordent with a bubblewrap fetish and was my first crime story. Not only did it spawn several other stories featuring Mordent, but my also recent novel, "The Immortalists", and two follow-up novels (at least one of which, "Church of Wire", will also appear from the same publisher late 2014/2015.
3. "Vole Mountain" (published in Nemonymous #4, May 2004)
This story could be counted as a "reader's choice" because I've had a lot of feedback from various people citing it as one of their favourites. It's also a story I've chosen to read at various events. It's a simple piece about identity and loss and what makes us who we are. My partner, Sophie, pointed out recently that 'vole' is an anagram of 'love' and knowing this actually adds a hidden depth to the piece I hadn't realised. This story was initially published anonymously in Nemonymous together with a story I had co-written with Allen Ashley. In the history of Nemonymous I'm therefore proud to be the only person with one and a half stories published anonymously in the magazine. The magazine came with a pure white cover.
4. "Beyond Each Blue Horizon" (published in The Book of Voices, Flame Books, March 2005; and also in Never Again, Gray Friar Press, September 2010)
This is one of my favourite stories. One which I believe I 'upped my game'. The denouement of which came solely out of a dream where I opened the curtains of my home to find that the city had disappeared around me. There's a political slant to this piece which is intentional as I wrote it specifically for the Book of Voices anthology which was published to support writers in Sierra Leone. That angle also meant it got republished in Never Again, an anti-fascist, anti-racist anthology. I wrote this about it at the time: ‘The genesis of this story originated in a dream whereby the denouément came to me complete. It was such a striking image that I knew I would have to use it in a story. The opportunity to develop it came with a call for submissions for the Book of Voices anthology (Flame Books, 2005), which was published to support the Sierra Leone PEN organisation—part of the international organisation which promotes literature and human rights. The Sierra Leone PEN was established to reinvigorate the diminished writing community after the civil war and encourage those writers who remained to play an active role in society. I decided to explore the scenario of inaction, whereby absolving responsibility or distancing ourselves from potentially harmful political situations makes us just as culpable and detrimental to the force for good as those who wish to violate us.' And I also liked the title so much I used it for my third collection of short fiction.
5. "Your Golden Hands" (published in PostScripts, PS Publishing, May 2011)
I love this story. It's a powerful piece about exploitation of one country/world over another and is another favourite for me to read at events - usually reducing my partner to tears by the time it's finished. Some stories have their own internal engine, and this is one of them. It's also one of the first stories I wrote in one sitting, which is typically how I now write all of my short fiction.
6. "Bullet" (published in Black Static #34, May 2013)
Again, this is another personal favourite merging Kafka with a lost detective novel, a missing person, and incorrect maps. I have a fondness for it because some of the story originated from a dream and I was happy that the finished story captured exactly the sensations I was hoping for. I'm also pleased that I sold the story exceptionally quickly, which is always a nice feeling.
7. "The Last Mohican" (to be published in punkPunk!, DogHorn Publishing, sometime in 2014)
I'm very much a product of the punk era, even if for much of the time I was a little too young to appreciate it fully. I've known for a while I have a punk story inside me, one that encapsulates my feeling of the period mixed with my formative years growing up, and I personally feel that I've written it perfectly in this piece to the extent that I can't read the ending without it having an intense emotional impact. The idea is simple, instead of war heroes displaying their medals on Remembrance Day, why not have punk veterans celebrating the last of their numbers in a world transformed by the movement. Having written this story, and not finding a suitable outlet to place it, the piece also inspired me to suggest editing a punk anthology for DogHorn Publishing, and that book will appear later this year. (I didn't select my own story for the book, but editor Adam Lowe agreed it deserved a place in it).
So that's my top 7. Twenty years after the appearance of "Pussycat" I've now sold my 119th short story, "Flytrap", to Interzone (marking my first appearance in that magazine). It really does feel that I'm currently working at the top of my game. Here's to the next twenty years!
Friday, 28 March 2014
Guest post: Sophie: on being an outsider
Last night's poetry slam was an experience; my first.
I am in awe.
I applaud any one who stands on a stage & bares themselves in such a raw & honest way. I know it's something I couldn't do.
But as a writer there is an inherent part of me that wants to be read & admired. I want someone to say "I get it, this is cussing genius". Though I know that what I do is not what they do. I do not, nor feel that I should, call myself a poet. I know nothing of the form, nor do I read poetry on a regular basis. (do I need to?)
I simply write.
I've arrived at the conclusion that anything I do have to say I can express in few words (& that it's okay to do so). Andrew wrote a whole novel based on a six word story I shared with him. He needed 80,000, I needed only six. I am not verbose.
Perhaps that's down to my crippling shyness, my inability to make eye contact with anyone but my partner, or to hold a conversation, the anxiety that floods my body before I even step out of the door, or the way I struggle to formulate my thoughts into something coherent.
But is my writing, which doesn't stick to set parameters, as valid as theirs? Could I, as someone who writes short obscure surreal subversive sentences, that have no real point & are layered with sexual intent, be taken seriously? Do I have the right to call myself a poet?
Can I legitimately take to the stage & recite the following:
Electroshock blue
orgasms & daisy coated
aches.
Volcanic honey-soaked
grazes & your
molten tongue on
stark concrete
or will I be laughed at, misunderstood, dismissed as just another writer?
& there is my fear.
My subversive side thinks I should continue to do whatever it is I do, to call it what I want, & to be proud of it.
Yet I live in Norwich, a renowned city of literature, & I'm still to meet any one who writes surreal alt-poetry, or accepts & praises what I do with my own writing & with Fur-Lined Ghettos.
Sometimes it feels as though I am living in a void, where anything remotely outside of the mainstream simply isn't welcome. I hope I'm wrong.
Monday, 24 March 2014
New Novel: The Immortalists
Very pleased to announce that my eighth book, "The Immortalists", was published by Telos over the weekend and is now available to buy both as an e-book and in paperback.
This is the first of two novels coming from Telos to feature my irascible PI, Mordent, who so far had only made appearances within a handful of short stories. The second novel, "Church of Wire", will be out either later this year or early next. A third ("People I Know Are Dead") has also been written and will hopefully be placed assuming these first two novels are relatively successful.
Here's the blurb:
This is the first of two novels coming from Telos to feature my irascible PI, Mordent, who so far had only made appearances within a handful of short stories. The second novel, "Church of Wire", will be out either later this year or early next. A third ("People I Know Are Dead") has also been written and will hopefully be placed assuming these first two novels are relatively successful.
Here's the blurb:
Is There Life After Death?
Ex-cop, Mordent, is an irascible, anachronistic PI with a noir sensibility and a bubblewrap fetish. Hired to investigate a missing person case he believes the job to be an easy pay-check, but when the kid turns up dead and appears to have aged beyond death, Mordent finds the mystery is only just beginning. When a second body is found similarly aged, Mordent is pulled into rival gang leaders’ quests for immortality, a race where the objective is not to finish. And it becomes personal when Marina, a psychic, disappears after tipping off the police about the second body. Mordent had unfinished business with her.
The Immortalists is the first in a series of exciting crime novels putting a neo-noir twist on the genre conventions of bums and dames, corruption and perversion, and cops and informers; all played out on rain-soaked streets amid a shadow-filled city.
‘An excellent writer and stylist, reminding me of Raymond Chandler, Malcolm Pryce and Jasper Fforde. Suitably creepy and sometimes laugh out loud funny.’ Emlyn Rees, author of 'That Summer He Died'
‘Andrew Hook's fiction is always recognisable, but never predictable. He has that rare, lovely ability: to mess with your expectations while entertaining you at the same time.’ Mat Coward, Dagger and Edgar shortlisted crime writer
The book is available as follows:
I'm planning a blog post on the gestation of this novel, but for now I just want to get the information up there. Stay tuned for further blogs!
Monday, 10 March 2014
The Writer's Fear Of The Book Event
To be honest, I'm not particularly nervous before book events. I'm happy reading my material, doing workshops or signings, and talking about my work. But maybe my subconscious thinks otherwise. Here's the summary of a dream I had last night which addresses virtually every 'event fear' a writer might have in one simple nightmare:
1. Arriving at the wrong venue - I had the choice of two bookstores in my dream. I was sure the one I chose was the wrong one, but I didn't even check out the other store;
2. Being late - Other writers were also giving readings and I had to noisily make my way to a seat whilst they were doing so (this is before I'd even checked it was the right store);
3. Checking details - I hate approaching people to confirm they know who I am. In the dream I eventually plucked up courage to ask if I was in the right bookstore - and whilst they said yes, I was still convinced that I wasn't;
4. Needing the toilet - Whilst another writer was reading I had to go to the loo. Of course, I had to walk past the podium to do so. Steps led down to a basement which had a full-length window through which the public were visible. I decided not to use the loo, turned my back to the window, and peed for a good five minutes onto the floor;
5. Occupied seat - Of course, returning upstairs I found the seat I had next to my partner was now occupied by a man eating ice-cream. Whilst the other writer was reading I had to loudly insist on regaining my seat only to find there was now chocolate ice-cream on it;
6. Deciding what to read - I flicked through the pages of my soon to be published novel, The Immortalists, only to find that the typesetting on several pages was skewed and illegible. I couldn't make any decision as to which chapter to read - due to length, legibility, appropriateness;
7. Equipment faults - Finally at the podium to do my reading I was so wary of getting the right volume on the microphone that I tried speaking with the end in my mouth (later in the dream, the mic disappeared and changed into a horn-like tube);
8. Disruptions - Before I could begin reading I was disrupted by the previous writer coming back to collect her stuff, and someone knocking a glass of Coke which had been provided for me all over my trousers as he knocked against the podium (thankfully not spilling onto the book);
9. Inappropriate material - It wouldn't be the first time that I've chosen something to read at an event to find children in the audience with their parents for whom the material wouldn't be appropriate. In the dream I made an announcement that some of the content might be considered sexually or verbally offensive for some people, only to find the back of the bookstore drop away and see my words broadcast over a wide plaza containing all kinds of townsfolk going about their daily business - with the guarantee of offending somebody;
10. Unable to find chosen text to read - In the dream I repeatedly searched through the book in front of the waiting crowd whilst inexplicably I was unable to find the passage I had chosen, the tension and fear mounting continuously. People begin to leave;
11. Inability to do the reading - In the dream, once I found the chapter I wanted, all the pages turned to coloured tissue paper and it was impossible to turn a page without scrunching it into a useless unreadable ball, whilst all the time muttering apologies for my uselessness;
12. No confidence in the material - Finally, having surmounted all the obstacles, I began to read only to realise my delivery was flat and without enthusiasm as I realised what I was reading was utter rubbish;
It was then that I woke.
Hopefully when I do take part in promotional events for this novel I won't be beset by anything like the above. But all eventualities are possible.
1. Arriving at the wrong venue - I had the choice of two bookstores in my dream. I was sure the one I chose was the wrong one, but I didn't even check out the other store;
2. Being late - Other writers were also giving readings and I had to noisily make my way to a seat whilst they were doing so (this is before I'd even checked it was the right store);
3. Checking details - I hate approaching people to confirm they know who I am. In the dream I eventually plucked up courage to ask if I was in the right bookstore - and whilst they said yes, I was still convinced that I wasn't;
4. Needing the toilet - Whilst another writer was reading I had to go to the loo. Of course, I had to walk past the podium to do so. Steps led down to a basement which had a full-length window through which the public were visible. I decided not to use the loo, turned my back to the window, and peed for a good five minutes onto the floor;
5. Occupied seat - Of course, returning upstairs I found the seat I had next to my partner was now occupied by a man eating ice-cream. Whilst the other writer was reading I had to loudly insist on regaining my seat only to find there was now chocolate ice-cream on it;
6. Deciding what to read - I flicked through the pages of my soon to be published novel, The Immortalists, only to find that the typesetting on several pages was skewed and illegible. I couldn't make any decision as to which chapter to read - due to length, legibility, appropriateness;
7. Equipment faults - Finally at the podium to do my reading I was so wary of getting the right volume on the microphone that I tried speaking with the end in my mouth (later in the dream, the mic disappeared and changed into a horn-like tube);
8. Disruptions - Before I could begin reading I was disrupted by the previous writer coming back to collect her stuff, and someone knocking a glass of Coke which had been provided for me all over my trousers as he knocked against the podium (thankfully not spilling onto the book);
9. Inappropriate material - It wouldn't be the first time that I've chosen something to read at an event to find children in the audience with their parents for whom the material wouldn't be appropriate. In the dream I made an announcement that some of the content might be considered sexually or verbally offensive for some people, only to find the back of the bookstore drop away and see my words broadcast over a wide plaza containing all kinds of townsfolk going about their daily business - with the guarantee of offending somebody;
10. Unable to find chosen text to read - In the dream I repeatedly searched through the book in front of the waiting crowd whilst inexplicably I was unable to find the passage I had chosen, the tension and fear mounting continuously. People begin to leave;
11. Inability to do the reading - In the dream, once I found the chapter I wanted, all the pages turned to coloured tissue paper and it was impossible to turn a page without scrunching it into a useless unreadable ball, whilst all the time muttering apologies for my uselessness;
12. No confidence in the material - Finally, having surmounted all the obstacles, I began to read only to realise my delivery was flat and without enthusiasm as I realised what I was reading was utter rubbish;
It was then that I woke.
Hopefully when I do take part in promotional events for this novel I won't be beset by anything like the above. But all eventualities are possible.
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