The Nomenclature of Fear

My short story, "The Nomenclature of Fear", has recently been published as a chapbook through In Short Publishing. It's a gorgeous little book of which I'm very proud, and as usual I'm blogging a few comments as to how the story was written. There will be spoilers for those who have yet to read it.

All of my stories start with a title, but I can't quite remember where this one came from. What I do know is that I had read an article regarding words in foreign languages which had no easy English equivalent, and that reading down the list I realised there were several words which could be associated with fear. I realised that I could use each of these words to define segments of a short story, and that the story would - in fact - write itself so long as I stuck to that format. However, what I also wanted was something subtle. I hate writing the obvious and so I knew that whilst the story would be about fear it wouldn't be a horror story.  I would delineate a relationship using each of those terms as a stepping stone, and it would be more of a piece examining how aspects of fear define our lives, leading to one of our ultimate fears: loss of a long-loved one through illness.

However, I also wanted to allude to one of the greatest horror movies of all time, "The Blair Witch Project"; which in itself is all about allusion and where what you don't see is more effective than what you do.

Here's a bit of it:

I thought my heart would explode. It's a cliché, but like all clichés it's grounded in the truth of expression. There's a word called mamihlapinatapai, a word used by the Fuegians from Tierra del Fuego in the South American peninsular. It's a succinct word which describes the sensation of two people looking at each other, each hoping the other will do what both desire but neither is willing do to.

We were too afraid to lean in for a kiss.

"The Nomenclature of Fear" is available here and very cheaply priced. In Short Publishing have published 18 authors simultaneously and numbered each chapbook accordingly (and randomly). Mine is number 4 in the series.

I wrote the story whilst listening to "Music From Drawing Restraint 9" by Bjork on repeat.

Promotion Promotion Promotion

It's not easy being a writer. It's less easy being an editor. And it's even less easy being a publisher.

It all comes down to promotion.

buy my book. Buy My Book. BUY MY BOOK.

Some days it feels like all I'm telling people to do: on social media, at events, at the day job, is to buy my fucking book. I'm not desperate, but as a writer I want to be read. And as editor/publisher I want those people I've put my time (and money) into, to be read. Because those writers I've been involved in publishing also want to be read. They want people to buy their book. And those books are damn good or I wouldn't be involved with them. But it's not a simple matter of making folk aware of those books, they won't sell simply because people are aware of them. You have to convince them using all possible outlets. And because these are usually social media which I also like to be...well...sociable...on, then half the time I'm convincing my mates to buy books. Or at least asking them to forward my pleads to their mates. Etc. It's a bit embarrassing.

I know it's hard. I have many writers who are my friends on social media and I'm sure they want their books buying too. And I have bought books from many of those. But I can't buy all their books. I have over 270 on my reading pile as it is. So I'm not expecting all my friends to lavishly buy my books, nor assist in promoting them, because they're in the same boat. And the number of books bought by the general public is painfully few. So how do you reach outside that circle and grab readers by the throat, how can you convince people that what you write, edit, or publish is worth their time and money? How do you get stuff into the imaginations of the ordinary reading public?

In short, I dunno, so here instead is a post pleading with you to buy one of the following books. It's all about promotion, isn't it?

First up, with my partner we run Salò Press. Our second book, a collection of poems titled Father, Husband by Scherezade Siobhan, has just been published and it desperately needs your love. These are urgent, complex poems. Let it be your impulse buy, your Christmas present to the friend who is always difficult to buy for, your own secret Santa. Take a look at the cover and read this.

Secondly, not only do we publish books but a magazine, Fur-Lined Ghettos. The seventh issue has just been published and is also desperate for your love. We have some weird shit in here. Don't take my word for it, here's a sample:

Thirdly, I edited an anthology of punk-themed fiction which was published by DogHorn Publishing earlier this year, titled punkPunk!. You don't have to be a punk to enjoy it, and you don't have to have been a punk to enjoy it. Don't take my word for it, here are a few snippets from Goodreads reviews: "one of the best books to come out of the indie scene that I have ever read" and "original and refreshing examples of contemporary fiction". There's also a full review here. Again, this is a book which deserves some love. There must be an old punk in your life who would like an off-the-wall Christmas present. This is ideal. Show that you care.

And finally, I must plug my stuff. I've written heaps over the years, but I'm focussing on neo-noir crime for the novels right now. A couple of those have been published and I have a couple waiting in the wings - but they won't get there unless these ones sell. That's the long and the short of it. So, once again, they also need your love. Have a crime reader in the family who avidly reads crime but you can't remember which Ian Rankin, Patricia Cornwell or Lee Child book they haven't got yet? Then introduce them to something new. Me! The latest of mine is Church of Wire. Here's a snippet: "He walked up to Miss Pretty and gave her a smile which hit like a bird against a window". It's also on Kindle. You can't go wrong.

But then if you've read this, you probably know all the above already. You might even have bought something from me before. But if you haven't, then just take a punt. Try some noir crime, some punk, some intelligent poetry, some experimental prose, some WORDS. Buy something and make me happy.

The First You & I

My short story, "The First You & I", has recently been published by Little Lantern Press in the debut issue of Skylark Review, and as usual I'm blogging about how the story was written for those who might be interested. There will be spoilers.

The story is quite short and the idea quite simple. One afternoon - childfree - myself and my partner were wandering along the beach at Walcott on the Norfolk coast (a short drive from Norwich where we live). It was an awesome day. The light was perfect and the sky was blue. It struck me at that moment that I would be happy should that day be repeated on a never-ending loop. Nothing else mattered: I felt free to shed the normal responsibilities and accept it as my personal heaven. I would have been happy for that day to extend to eternity.

What resulted was a love story - a paean to our relationship - but also tinged with a little sadness as I realised that for the characters in my story heaven would have to come at a price.

Once I had the idea for this story the title came to me quite randomly. I had a book launch at the Diss Publishing Bookshop in July and opposite where I was sitting was a display of greeting cards. Some of these had words on the cards and as they were stacked they overlapped. "The First" and "You & I" were actually the initial words on two separate cards which spelt "The First You & I" on overlap. Weird how ideas come, but the title seemed perfect for the story where the 'first you & I' is the template for a 'forever you & I'.

An extract is here:

Look at this, you say. I walk towards you, brush my hand on your dress above your hip. An I am here touch. You nod downwards, camera poised. The beach is nature's canvas. Against the flat wet sand the receding sea has raised flower-patterned swirls. They are intricate and beautiful, almost achingly perfect. Art without intent: stripped of meaning they are more than we could ever be. A fresco of seaweed hair.

Prior to publication, I read the story in its entirety at a Poetry Collective event in Norwich. This is available to watch here:

"The First You & I" was written to the album Couer de Pirate by the wonderful Couer de Pirate on repeat.

Skylark Review features twenty-nine poems and five short stories, and also includes Devon Miller Duggan, Jane Burn, Jeffrey C Alfier, Pippa Little, Jane Loechler, Hannah Dellabella, Rachel Plummer, Steve Klepetar, Meggie Royer, Andrea Bowd, Susan Taylor, Cris Harris, Ellen Davies, Michael Dittman, Jane Frank, Laurie Byro, Kate Firth, Di Slaney, Lee Crowell, Beth Schneider, Abegail Morley, Aden Thomas, Guy Traiber, Cheryl Pearson, Judy Darley, Neil Schiller, Abi Hynes and Joel Allegretti.

Vulvert

My short story, "Vulvert", has recently been published in #4 of Confingo Magazine. As usual, I'm blogging a few thoughts as to the writing of the story. There will be some spoilers for those who haven't read it.

A few years ago my partner and I were on holiday in the Lake District. Obviously - both being writers - we talk a lot of nonsense most of the time; mind-warps where our brains just flash shit up and then we speak it. For some reason we spent almost the whole week talking to each other in affected American accents. And at some point during this ridiculousness one of us pronounced the word 'velvet' as 'vulvert'. I remember seizing on it as a cool new word. It held an attraction as a title, but also as a mispronunciation. It sounded like vulva. And vulva and velvet go together hand in hand. Perfect.

When it came to writing the story I decided to include a female protagonist (purportedly) from America who spoke her name that way. I decided to have a male protagonist as a linguist. I discovered that the brain of a shark is very similar in shape to a vagina. I realised that language can be something we hide behind rather than to reveal who we really are. All this from a simple mispronunciation. Here's a bit of it:

I had been flicking through secondhand CDs when I saw her again, the jewel cases click-clacking like high heels on a pavement. She stood opposite, head down, her long black hair parted down the middle with a pale pink strip of skin dividing the two sections of her head similar to the way the medial longitudinal fissure divides the two cerebral hemispheres in the brain. The pink strip had obviously caught the sun, reminding me of another simile: the thin strip of excrement retained within the body of a prawn, albeit with the colours reversed.

"Vulvert" was written listening to Ellie Goulding's "Halcyon" CD on repeat.

Confingo #4 features poetry by Marianne Daniels, Karl Astbury and Helen Torres; short fiction by David Gaffney, Andrew Hook, Matt Harris and Keiran Lambe; photography and artwork from Lucy Ridges, Chan-yang Kim, Jordan Sweke, Rebecca Driffield, Ailsa Rhiannon and Zoe McLean; and an interview with the cover artist, Lucy Ridges. Purchase it here.

Us!

My short story, "Us!", has recently been published in the anthology, Creeping Crawlers, edited by Allen Ashley for Shadow Publishing. As usual I'm posting a few comments as to how the story came about for those who might be interested. There will be spoilers.

"Us!" was a story idea I'd had for some time. I can't remember exactly how it popped into my head, but the idea sprang from the 1950s movie, "Them!", in which ants made giant through radioactivity threaten small town America. Perhaps it was because of the emphatic title, however I wondered about telling the story from the ants' perspective. Many SF movies - and certainly many horror movies, if not almost every movie - are built around a them and us scenario. I thought it would be interesting to flip it on it's head. However I never got around to actually writing the thing.

Everything changed when Allen announced he was editing this anthology. I now had an impetus to write. So I popped "Them!" into the DVD player and made some notes. I knew it would be very short - you can't really stay in an ant's head for too long - and I wanted it to follow the movie's storyline but in a way in which certain terminology and understanding was more ant-like than human. I couldn't write the story in ant, after all (click click click clickety-click), but I didn't want it to be too human either. Hopefully I struck the right balance. Here's a bit of it:

We knew we were everywhere, had been for a over a trillion sunrises. In some of our colonies they worship ancestors trapped in amber. Yet despite our experience we knew we had disadvantages. Our enemies had superior vision. Their flyers did not lose their wings after the nuptial flight. Their males rarely died after mating. We had strength - the ability for one to lift twenty. Yet our aggressors had non-organic structures which served to augment them.

The style is quite different from my usual writing, which is probably why it took a definite market to exist for me to write the piece. But I'm pleased with it - it did exactly what I wanted it to. And the fact that it is the lead story in the anthology makes me very happy.

A final thought: Each time I write a story I usually listen to a piece of music on repeat. There was only one song I could possibly play whilst writing this: Antmusic by Adam and the Ants. I played it 35 times on repeat and I don't even like the song. I guess I just like suffering for my art.

Creeping Crawlers is published by Shadow Publishing. Here are the other fine folk who grace it's pages: David Birch, Gary Budgen, Adrian Cole, Storm Constantine, Andrew Darlington, Pauline E Dungate, Dennis Etchison, Edmund Glasby, John Grant, Terry Grimwood, Mark Howard Jones, Alan Knott, Robin Lupton, Ralph Robert Moore, Richard Mosses, Marion Pitman, David Rix, David Turnbull. It can be purchased here.

The Aniseed Gumball Kid

My short story, "The Aniseed Gumball Kid", was recently published in Breakout, a Postscripts anthology from PS Publishing. As usual, I'm blogging a few thoughts as to how the story came into being. There may well be spoilers for those who haven't read it.

I actually wrote this piece some time ago. It was quickly accepted by Pete Crowther who said it was probably the best story I'd submitted to Postscripts, however it's taken a while to get published and my memory of how it was written is a little hazy. However, I do know that I found the title written on the back of a recipe pinned to our corkboard, and that title has been claimed as an idea by my partner. I also remember the story sprang from the title alone.

"The Aniseed Gumball Kid" tells the story of an office worker who has become estranged from his family, who clings to a halcyon vision of reality which doesn't match the situation he is actually in, and who becomes obsessed by a kid he views at a gumball machine through this office window. The kid becomes a representation of everything he wants to be. That's it in a nutshell, but it's also much more nuanced than this. There's a lot of typical office politics, how reality in any office is a self-contained world confirming to it's own rules, and about how loneliness can affect the mind. Here's a bit of it:

Sandford had worked in a handful of offices during his life. None of which were remarkable, either through the nature of the work or the workers themselves. In his new office he realised quickly how the staff fell into stereotypes: the dumb blonde, the surprisingly clever blonde, the SF nerd, the fat guy with glasses who blinked too rapidly, the married woman on the verge of having an affair, the token ethnic, the knowledgeable female, the motherly female, the unattractive temp, the chummy boss, the avoidable boss, the workmate who thought you liked him and who considered himself a friend but who you would never see socially. And so it went on.

Over his spiced chicken wrap - he no longer bought fish paste sandwiches - Sandford catalogued his fellow workers and found each correlated with an identikit counterpart in a previous office. Beryl was Carolyn was Cynthia. Wayne was Dwayne was Shawn. Emma was Sharon was Melissa. Raj was Raj was Raj. From this only one deduction could be made: his brain held a finite template of stereotypes from which to draw new people. Similar circumstances created similar people. The more he toyed with the idea the more he decided to believe that was true. And the more he believed it was true, the more it became true.

Breakout contains stories from twenty-seven writers and can be bought here. Including fiction by John Gribben, Allen Ashley, Jessica Reisman and Steven Utley, John Weldon, Howard Priestley, Kaitlin Queen, Paul Tremblay, Kelly Barnhill, Garry Kilworth, Lisa L. Hannett, Keith Minnion, Robert T. Jeschonek, Vaughan Stanger, Robert Reed, Simon Strantzas, James Cooper, Greg Quiring, Kat Howard, Kit Reed, Darrell Schweitzer, Andrew Hook, Ian Whates, Emma Coleman, Steven Utley and Camille Alexa, Adrian Tchaikovsky, Anna Tambour and Marly Youmans.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

     

 

 

 

FantasyCon 2015

Held over last weekend was the annual British Fantasy Society convention, FantasyCon. I love attending this event, and this year was no exception. Heading up from Norwich we dropped our daughter off at her grandmother's in Leicester and then continued along to Nottingham where we easily found the convention hotel within the grounds of the University. It was a warm if cloudy day and the convention building and hotel architecture were all very pleasing. Parking the car we headed to check in.

The first person I chatted to briefly was Simon Clark, followed by our close friends Allen Ashley and Sarah Doyle. After being told we had to wait a few minutes before our room was ready we headed to the convention registration which was already busy. Often at these events you're given a bag with a couple of books inside which you will never read (the second in a trilogy for example), however this year an empty bag was just waiting to be filled with books from the very generous freebie table. I have never seen such a selection of freebies which were so desirable and during the first hour of the convention I probably bored everyone silly advising them to register before they all disappeared. These were our freebies many of which were on our wish lists:

Following registration we headed to our room and found it pleasantly clean and modern. The curving architecture viewed from our window resembled a wooden rollercoaster track. The large windows made us realise we were clearly visible from the outside! Just from the room and those free books alone it intimated this would be a good convention - and those instincts weren't wrong.

Heading to the bar area we chatted briefly to Steve Savile who I hadn't seen for some years and we reminisced over his book, "Angel Road", which I had published through Elastic press. We then spent some time with the lovely Priya Sharma talking about poetry and surrealism, and were joined by Simon Bestwick and Cate Gardner. I also managed to catch up with Stuart Young before heading to the Pendragon Press launch of "The Lost Film" by Mark West and Stephen Bacon. Chatted with Jay Eales and Selina Lock in the queue before picking up a copy of the book which looked interesting. We also did a brief tour of the dealer's room speaking to Roy at the TTA Press table, George Sandison at Unsung, confirming a preference for two-legged werewolves at another table whose name escapes me, having a brief chat with Trevor Denyer, and saying a quick hello to Peter Coleborn and Jan Edwards before diving into their £1 book sale.

We were planning to attend the Poetry Round Robin event from 8 to 10pm, but needed food beforehand. The bar food looked pretty rubbish and we only really wanted a snack so Sophie googled the nearest KFC. It appeared to be six minutes away. We set out to walk but it took about six minutes to leave the campus. After forty-five minutes we realised we must have taken a wrong turn. When we did arrive at the KFC it was a tiny shack near a garage where the staff served behind what resembled bulletproof glass. The hotel turned out to be only six minutes away. We ate quickly.

Back at the hotel we thoroughly enjoyed the poetry event. Sophie read three pieces in total and received some great feedback. The others - some old, some new - were also good to hear. Afterwards we headed to Simon Bestwick's reading from his forthcoming novel, "Hell's Ditch", which went down well. Sitting in the bar area we spent the next three hours chatting to Ray Cluley and his partner, Jess, who are fast becoming good friends. It's always refreshing to talk on a variety of levels and subjects with people who know exactly what you're talking about. By 2:30 in the morning Ray's question, "what haven't we talked about?", suggested we were exhausted and it was time to go to bed.

Saturday

Woke after an ok sleep. The hotel breakfast was pretty good and I dug in so far I ended up coming out in Australia. Popped into the dealer's room first thing to hand Roy Gray the TTA Best Small Press award for 2011 which I'd collected on Andy Cox's behalf a few years ago but I'd used as a bookend until now because I kept forgetting to forward it on. Better late than never. Then we headed to the book launch room where I signed a few copies of the anthology, "Creeping Crawlers", edited by Allen Ashley for Shadow Publishing, which contains my short story, "Us!". The book looks fantastic.

We then popped along to Ray Cluley's reading but found he had had to swap with Joe Hill who had to leave early. This meant we got to hear Joe first and Ray second, and whilst I have only a passing interest in Joe I did enjoy his reading and he seemed to be a thoroughly amiable bloke. Enjoyed Ray's reading too. From there we ventured over to Adam Nevill's book launch, picking up a copy of "Lost Girl" for a sweet fiver, and enjoyed an even sweeter free beer (the best beer of the weekend in fact) as a bonus. Had a long chat with Stephen Volk whilst I was in the queue about his adaptation of "Midwinter of the Spirit" for ITV. A three-parter which I had really enjoyed (although unfortunately he advised it hadn't been re-commissioned). We also shared our disappointment that it hadn't been featured on Gogglebox.

After Adam's launch we headed to Gary Couzen's reading. He chose a section from the story, "Cold", which was included in his collection, "Out Stack and other places", for which I had written the introduction. It was good to hear the piece being read and I heartily recommend the book.

Around 1pm we realised we had a window of opportunity to catch up with some sleep, and would have done so if a fire alarm in the conference centre hadn't pulled us from the fringes of darkness. Whilst it didn't affect the hotel, the noise did. Thankfully there wasn't an actual fire.

Back in the main building we headed to Paul Meloy's book launch and picked up a copy of "The Night Clock" (a little surprised it was an ARC, but I guess every story needs one). During the course of the day I'd also been selling a handful of copies of my new chapbook, "The Nomenclature of Fear", to those I thought might be interested, and was chuffed when Stephen Volk asked me if I had any with me. Hopefully those who bought these enjoyed them.

At four o'clock we were back in the reading room, this time with myself reading my short story, "Shipwrecked In The Heart Of The City". It seemed to go down well, and we remained there to hear Priya Sharma's reading before returning to the general bar area and milling about the dealer's room again. The great thing about the venue was that it was all on one level: no complex corridors or echoey stairwells, no reason to get lost. And whilst I haven't mentioned everyone we spoke to (of course), it was so refreshing to be somewhere where every few paces we might find ourselves amongst people we knew and could readily chat to. I certainly don't get that everywhere I go. We are a band of outsiders.

Six o'clock saw me take part in a panel about the future of the short story alongside Gary Couzens, Nina Allan, Marie O'Regan, and Laura Mauro which was moderated by Allen Ashley. Hopefully we said something of interest. Certainly some people were taking notes.

Food was next on the menu, but the hotel choices were limiting. After a bit of aimless wandering we took a taxi into Nottingham with Allen Ashley and Sarah Doyle and settled for the simplicity of Nando's and had some good conversation over a much-needed meal.

Returning to the hotel we looked in on the disco which - at that point - had only two people in the hall. Deciding against it we attended Victoria Leslie's "Skein and Bone" book signing event, picking up a copy and managing to have a long chat with her (Sophie gushing about new poetry ventures and reading a poem from one of her favourite poets to her).

Once we were out of there we found ourselves again alongside Ray Cluley and Jess. Another chat ensued. More beer. Sophie made an admission she had never been drunk and Jess made it a mission to ensure that she was. Singles might have been doubles. Sophie denies that she did - in fact - get drunk, although when I returned to their table after chatting with a few other people her distressed exclamation: "Your face is square, your face is square" coupled with tears and laughter seemed to suggest otherwise.

Whilst that was going on I discussed cheese with Neil Williamson in relation to a forthcoming anthology we will be editing (more details on this when confirmed), and also spoke to Linda Rucker and Rosanne Rabinowitz about the project. Al Robertson and Heather Lindsey were at the fringes of the conversation and I only wish I'd been able to have a much-needed catch-up with them. Neil and I also discussed the Sparks/Franz Ferdinand project, FFS. Always good to have great music conversations.

As the convention area closed down we returned to the hotel bar, striking up my annual noir crime conversation with John Travis and sharing a few recommendations and comments on the state of publishing. By the time it reached 2:30am it was time for bed (and to make use of the extra hour's sleep due to daylight saving time). Another great day with great people.

Sunday

I got out of bed on Sunday the only way you can when at a Fantasy convention.

Knowing I wouldn't eat til about 9 that evening I ensured I had two cooked breakfasts, then packed our bags into the car before strolling back into the convention area. Hung around the dealers tables, chatting to Priya Sharma and Carole Johnstone, and picked up a copy of "Breakout", the new Postscripts anthology from the PS Publishing table containing my short story, "The Aniseed Gumball Kid", which I hadn't realised had been published (I did confirm I could take my contributor copy with Nicky Crowther), and sold a copy of "punkPunk!" to Steve Shaw. Leaving there I had a conversation with Rob Shearman about his World Fantasy Award judge role (which I had done a few years previously), before resting awhile in the bar area again where Sophie read my "Gumball" story to me.

Having a few hours to wait before the award ceremony we went for a stroll in the university grounds. The autumnal colours were beautiful and it was nice to have some quiet time together without feeling we were heading too far away from the convention. Returning to our car to put some stuff away we decided to have our own FantasyCon banquet which was (unsurprisingly) tasty.

Hanging outside the banqueting hall we were able to have a chat with Alison Littlewood and her partner Fergus about the forthcoming awards, and just before the ceremony we were also able to speak briefly with Nina Allan (receiving a heartfelt hug) before we were whisked into the vortex of unbanqueted-convention-goers sucked into the main hall in time for the awards. I had a vested interest in one of these, having had a story in "Horror Uncut" which was in the best anthology category, but as it happens that award went elsewhere. It was certainly an eclectic list of winners. I wouldn't argue with any of it other than that the film "Guardians of the Galaxy" which won best screenplay was an embarrassing crock of shite. Still, each to their own.

We exited just as the convention was being formally concluded, racing to the car before the crowds could claim us. We'd had a great time amongst friends and for as many conversations we had there were also those who we passed in the corridor and never had the opportunity to see again. The convention is such a magnificent social occasion for those in the genre and this was one of the best. A triumph of individuals finding camaraderie in community. Looking forward to next year in Scarborough.

(Postscript: forty-five minutes out of Nottingham we stopped just outside Leicester for the loo. I was thinking you never see anyone out of the convention, and then promptly bumped into Tom Johnstone as we left. Oh, the power of suggestion!).