Book Recommendation: The Perfect Player

Before getting to the book recommendation, I want to quickly say that I'm sorry I didn't keep the writing updates up. I wasn't too well for the last portion of October, the page views weren't occurring (so I didn't see much point in continuing the updates), and I wasn't really happy with the writing I was doing. I don't know what I'm going to do with Shifters yet. I wanted to stay positive, but as I'd worked on it for months, maybe it's time I throw in the towel for at least a bit with that project.

This brings me to a writing update for people who may be interested. I am finding that I've got my enthusiasm back for writing now and I'm hoping to have a free excerpt of my work posted soon, to keep people happy until I actually publish something else.

So, book recommendation:

I want to recommend The Perfect Player, by Devon Winterson, who is a good online friend of mine and I line edited her book. It's a dark fantasy novel. While I won't write a review, because it wouldn't be proper with having a hand in the book (as much as I'd like to), I do want to say that it's a really good story and the ending did touch me. As it's hard to touch me with pretty much anything, it's a rare feat and should say a lot about the book's quality. I say that as someone who's totally unbiased and such.

It's also her first novel, and she does need all the support she can get as do other authors, especially self-published ones.

The link to her book can be found here:

Amazon US

Amazon UK

And if you want to sample some of her other writing that's free, here are the relevant links:

Open Your Heart to Chance (This I do definitely recommend. It touched me like The Perfect Player did.)

The Deeper the Lust, The Sweeter the Flesh (Don't be put off by the title here. It's likely not what you're thinking.)

The free books can also be found on Smashwords, I believe, if you'd rather not get them from Goodreads.

Mailing List

Amusing. I've gone a long time without any blog posts and I now have two in one day. Anyway, I just wanted to leave one last, quick post up because I just created a Mailchimp account, so I now have a mailing list for you to sign up for if you wish, which can be found at http://eepurl.com/F8e39, so that you get informed of any new book releases. If you click the link, the only thing that's asked for on the form for you to fill in is your email.

You have my word that any email you receive from me will only be to do with new releases. One email for each release, that's it. They may or may not be frequent, depending on how often I publish. Going off my current record, you'd likely receive one every three months. ;) But hopefully I'll fix that. The daily writing updates I'm going to be providing will be a start towards doing that.

Also, while I'm talking about the mailing list and new releases:

My current thinking is that when I release a story/collection over 7,500 words, I'll be selling it cheaper than I will a few days after release. That will allow you, if you're subscribed to the mailing list or follow me elsewhere (though I have to warn that I haven't posted on Twitter for some time and I'm not sure if I will again), to get the stories cheaper than others will as a way of saying thanks for being an early purchaser (I'd like to say I'd sell each new release at £0.77/$0.99 for the first few days and I did in fact say that before editing it, but I think it's best I don't make any promises on price points). As an aside, if you utilise facebook, you're probably best liking my author page there. 

Writing process insight + old abandoned project

Today, I thought I'd write up a blog post explaining my writing process, why I abandon a lot of projects and why it takes me a long time to publish new work. The abandoning is the reason I simply don't talk about works in progress anymore. Or rather, give plot details. I don't want people disappointed when I fail to finish something. However, I also wanted to write this blog post to show a rough draft of an abandoned project, warts and all (with scenes ending abruptly and unpolished), which I've pulled some concepts from that form the basis of the current story I'm working on. I'm finally starting to feel it now, though the writing is not at the level I want it to be at yet in what I've currently written. Anyway, while you read the rough draft, hopefully it's obvious why I abandoned it. Certain elements didn't feel like they worked, and as a result, you may as well say the story would require an entire rewrite from a content perspective. Nor did it feel like there was anything going for it, above it being a simple creature feature, which doesn't interest me too much.

So, before showing the rough draft in its entirety (it was not finished), my writing process, as I explained in the afterword for The Dead Should Stay Dead, if you picked it up, is very chaotic. I don't plan at all. I like to see where things go, though I start with a very basic idea. Normally, when I start a story, I get so far into it and I find that it doesn't work at a certain point. This leads to me restarting the project over, because I don't see the point in finishing something if it's going to be entirely rewritten from a content perspective anyway. However, like I said above, I normally take some parts and concepts from each version and apply them to the one I'm currently working on. This is a process that's continued until I start 'feeling it'. Hence the length of time it takes me to write these things, and I don't use beta readers these days, plus I edit everything myself now. Same with the covers. And to think some people say writing is easy and not hard work. But yes, another reason things take a long time is because I care a lot about my work and I wouldn't publish something I feel is subpar. It's not fair on readers and, to be frank, I wouldn't want to anyway. As the rough draft shows below, I could have quite easily finished it and published it after some polishing, but I didn't. 

So, this brings me to the rough draft. It is nearly 4,000 words and unedited, nor is it finished. However, like I mentioned above, I've culled certain elements from it for the project I'm finally feeling. I think, if I can get the writing of a very high quality, it has the potential to be very powerful if I do it right, given the themes I'm working with, despite the harsh length when it comes to the word count (probably novelette size, 7,500 - 17,500 words).

Below is the rough draft. Again, the story that I'll eventually publish will only feature a few similarities. If you do read the story I'm working on when it's published, called Shifters, then you should be able to spot the elements I've taken from here. I should, however, warn that it is quite gruesome in places, though I'm not sure the desired effect has been gained due to the rough quality of the writing.

Runner

Can you run from fate and your past? I think not.

The Murder

Sheriff Ted Perkins had received the radio message a short while ago. And it was only now when [DL1] he pulled up outside ol’ Bobby’s trailer that he realised his deputy hadn’t been lying that it was a damned grisly scene. His car’s headlights highlighting every bit of blood spatter on the white trailer and on the ground, never mind ol’ Bobby’s corpse itself, as night’s darkness began to shroud the surrounding desert.

He got out of the car and slammed the door shut, hitched his gray pants up and straightened his hat, with cowboy spurs making a noise, before walking over to his deputies and the grisly scene. “Shit, you certainly weren’t lyin’.”

“No boss. Haven’t the foggiest what killed him,” said Deputy Rainer, the second oldest on the police of Cougar’s Run. The other deputy, Lenin, was younger and wet behind the ears.

“Can’t say I do either, Rainer.” Sheriff Perkins knelt in front of the corpse, slumped against the trailer with his tilted to the right, and examined every gruesome detail. Ol’ Bobby’s throat had been bitten, and the skin spat out onto the ground it looked like. His white vest, where it wasn’t covered in blood or torn, was dirtied. The blood itself stemming from the throat wound and the claw marks on his chest and face. “Like some wild animal savaged him, though I ain’t sure what could have done it. Looks like no coyote attack to be sure.”

Sheriff Perkins looked to his deputies and they shrugged, as perplexed as he was. “We have an army boy up at Carl’s Beer and Grill, don’t we?”

“Believe so, boss,” said Lenin. “One of those who likes to keep to himself, though. A drifter.”

“He’d have tracking skills,” said Perkins. “I’ll have a word with him. I can be persuasive.”

“What’re we meant to do with the corpse?” asked Rainer.

“Get him taken away, but keep the murder on the quiet. Don’t want to scare everyone by telling ‘em there’s a murderous animal of unknown origin on the loose. I’ll meet you both back ‘ere.”

“Right you are, boss.”

“See you boys in a bit. I’ll be bringing soldier boy back ‘ere no matter what.” With that, Perkins went back to his car, opened the door and got in with a slight moan as he felt the ache of arthritis in his aging hips. If there was one thing he could do without at his age and health, it was a hunt through the harsh desert of California. That is beside the fact that they were hunting god knows what, judging by the claw marks and the size of the killer’s teeth/mouth.

As he drove away to Carl’s Beer and Grill though, there was one thing he looked forward to. Meeting the army boy, who he’d not had the pleasure of meeting yet. An older relative had been the in the army.

The Reluctant Drifter

The drifter, known as Johnny Demore, washed the glasses and plates. It was quite the step down from being in the army, but he preferred it honestly, and while he didn’t earn a wage from Carl, he did have a free room up top and free meals for helping out around the place. He couldn’t ask for more than that really. Food may not have been too tasty, but it was better than eating out of trash cans, which is what he’d have to resort to if he wasn’t kept. And he was basically a free employee for Carl, so it worked out both ways.

In the background, country and western music blared as it so often did. The current words being sung were ‘Oh yeah, baby, we’re going to party tonight like we’ve never partied before!’ Johnny couldn’t say he cared much for the music but it was either that or listen to the chatter of patrons or the staff. To that, he preferred the music. Sometimes, people would try to be his friend, but he wanted none of it. Ever since Afghanistan, he’d wanted no contact if he could avoid it. He plain and simply didn’t feel a part of the world anymore and he was quite content to mind his own.

Over the past few days while he’d been here, one woman had been trying to attract his attention. She was pretty, usually wearing loose fitting t-shirts and jeans, with long brown hair. Tonight was no different, because as he cleaned a glass behind the bar, he noticed her looking over at him with her legs crossed on the stool she sat on. Her elbow resting on the counter. He did his best to keep his head down, because getting romantically involved when he was as fucked up as he was didn’t appeal.

The establishment itself was unusually quiet though. He could only sum it up as being thanks to the recent murder that had taken place on the outskirts of the small town of Cougar’s Run. Apparently, an animal had committed said murder. Coyote or something, Sheriff . . . Sheriff Perkins had said.

And on cue, as he thought about the sheriff, the door opened with a whoosh of chill air and in he walked. Perkins looked around and stopped when his eyes landed on Johnny. Johnny returned the look, wondering what the hell Perkins wanted. “Sheriff.” Johnny nodded, still cleaning the glass behind the counter.

“You’re the army boy, right?” asked Perkins, moseying on over.

“Not anymore.” Johnny placed the glass and cloth down.

“Don’t give me that bullshit, son.  Once you’ve been in the army and seen action, you’ll always be in it. And you’ll always keep that patriotic shit about never leaving behind one of our own with you.”

“If you say so and I’m not your son.”

Perkins rested his hands on the counter, removed his hat and eyed Johnny. “I do. My dear ol’ dad was in the army. So I know what I’m talking about. And no, you ain’t my son, but you’re young enough to be and I reckon I have the wisdom of age over you.”

“Whatever. You just here to talk me to death or do you actually want something?”

“Yup, I want something alright. You.”

“Me? Good luck with that, because I haven’t done anything wrong. Now, do y—”

“I ain’t said you did something wrong. I need your help with something, assuming you got some survival skills and you ain’t rusty.”

“And if I refuse to help?”

“Listen, I’m guessing you and I speak the same language, son. If you refuse, I’ll gently escort you to my car and if you resist, I’ll charge you with resisting arrest or assaulting a police officer. It may not be fair, but you ain’t in the city anymore. Out ‘ere, only what I say matters. So, makes no odds to me how we do this, but you’re helping me one way or another.”

“Fine.” He was dressed for the occasion, so he didn’t see any need to prolong the agony. “After you.” He walked left the counter, lifted the bar flap and walked over to the sheriff.

“Good choice, son.” The sheriff grabbed his hat, slipped back onto his head.

It was then that Carl appeared from the kitchen, white apron dirty, and stopped them from leaving. “Where you going?” His face was portly and his head bald headed.

“Out. I’ll be back later, I guess?” Johnny looked to Perkins.

“Maybe.”

“You can’t go. What am I supposed to do while you’re gone and the customers start pouring in?”

Perkins answered. “That look like my problem, Carl? It ain’t, so find a way to manage.”

“You think that shiny badge gives you the right to just order folk around?”

“Nope, but it sure gives me the right to arrest anyone giving me or my deputies a hard time.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me, Carl.”

“Go on, get out.”

Perkins nodded, smiled slightly. “A pleasure as always, Carl.”

They exited the building and left the grumbling Carl behind. Perkins spoke, “Your name’s Johhny, right, son?”

“That’s right.”

Perkins nodded. “Seems he’s become friendlier since you started staying there. You must be rubbing off on him.”

Johnny cracked a smile for what felt like the first time in his life. “He’s normally friendlier than that.”

“That so? I’d like to see him in his friendlier moods.” Perkins opened his cruiser’s door. “Get in the front with me.”

“All right.” Johnny went around the other side of the car and before getting in, he took one last look at Carl’s Beer and Grill, the neon lettering standing out as dusk began to give way to full dark. The words ‘Carl’s’ and ‘and’ were blue, while ‘Beer’ and ‘Grill’ were red. To the left of the establishment’s name was a mug of beer, glittering around the edges. With a sigh, he got into the car.

Perkins started the engine and Johnny noticed him look over towards his seat belt. “Always good to see someone fasten their seatbelt.” He started away then onto the barren road. “You heard about ‘em animal attacks, right?”

“Yeah. No bodies found afterwards?”

“Yup. Another’s disappeared. Ol’ Bobby just a ways down the road. Ain’t got no idea what could carry a full grown man off with no tracks, other than the animal’s large paws.”

“Strange. And let me guess, you want me to help find it?”

“Yup. Need your tracking expertise.”

“I assume I’ll get a gun?”

“Sure you will. I have me two deputies waiting at the scene.”

Johnny nodded slightly and looked out of the window, noticing the odd tumbleweed pass fly past. He hadn’t held a gun for a year and he hadn’t wanted to again. He wanted nothing more to do with death and its instruments, having become well acquainted with them back in Afghanistan.

“You served in Afghanistan, right?”

“I did, though I’m not going to talk about it.”

Perkins glanced at Johnny, before returning his gaze to the road. “Fair enough. I respect your privacy. Must be some horrible shit you saw out there to make you as messed up as you are though.”

Why couldn’t people just mind their own? And by whose definition was he messed up by? The old man’s car? Maybe the sheriff’s the one that’s messed up? Perhaps Johnny saw so clearly what people were capable of now that he simply wanted nothing to do with own kind? All of those thoughts mixed in with a reluctance to get close to anyone else and with guilt. Getting close to others and seeing them die had an effect on a man, so that they never wanted to lose a cherished one again. “I’m not messed up.”

“All right. You know, I’ve seen my fair share of shit too.”

“This the part where you claim to have insight into what I’ve been through. Truth is you don’t. Everyone claims that.” Johnny looked at Perkins, not removing his eyes. “You ever seen a child brainwashed into strapping a bomb to them, all in the name of religion, and walking into a crowded area before committing suicide, so he could be with his brothers and his god? The kid probably no more than eleven.”

Perkins glanced at Johnny, shook his head. “No . . . Point taken.”

Johnny nodded, looking back out of the window. “Truth is, I’ve seen what people are capable of and I simply want nothing to do with the world these days. That’s all. It’s all fine and dandy you getting me to help you find whatever’s killing folk, but don’t expect me to give much of a damn.”

“Fair enough.”

Fair enough? Good. Perkins would shut up now, mind his own, and give up the therapy and psycho-analysis bull shit now. But the worst part of it was that what he just said wasn’t the conversation killer he liked to use. No, that was something else, something that made him loathe himself and what gave him a guilty conscience.

And from that point on, they sat in silence until they arrived at their destination.

Margie & Carl

Margie Parson wandered over to the counter in Carl’s Beer and Grill. “Carl, what do you think the sheriff wanted with him?” She’d watched him ever since he came into town and started staying above the establishment. It was rare to ever hear a peep from him, but she felt drawn to him and couldn’t explain why. Sure, he was a cute guy, but it was more than. He seemed than most and he was like a puzzle box waiting to be unravelled. It wasn’t like she wanted to rip his clothes either. The attraction wasn’t like that, but she simply wanted to get to know him. She hoped he’d be safe, so that she might get the chance to solve the puzzle of Johnny Demore. And with the establishment being quiet, she thought now was the best time to quickly probe Carl.

Carl frowned and looked up, hands rested on the counter. “How the fuck am I supposed to know that, Margie? All I know is Perkins thought it’s all right to leave me short-handed and not even feel sorry about it. But I’m sure your boy toy will be fine.”

“He’s not my boy toy. And don’t you care about him at all?”

“Oh I care about him all right. I care about his safety because I need his help in keeping the place running.”

Hunting the Beast

Johnny and Perkins pulled up outside the trailer, one other police jeep present. The two deputies outside, sat on the trailer’s steps by the front door. Johnny exited the sheriff’s jeep as did the sheriff, the sight of the blood covered trailer hitting him full force as he gazed at it, mouth agape. Memories of Afghanistan flooded back, the sights of blood stained walls riddled with bullet holes vivid. Bodies in front of them and the screams of the dying rung in his ears as plain as the day he first heard them, their arms outstretched as they sought aid in their time of dying. Hoping for someone to ease their suffering or hoping someone could stop them from dying.

He shook his head, approached.

“’Bout time you showed up, boss,” said the older looking deputy.

“Well, we’re here now.” Perkins looked at Johnny. “This ‘ere,” he pointed at Lenin, “is Deputy Lenin. He’s young and wet behind the ears, but he’s dependable. Just . . . make sure you keep him in front of you.”

Johnny laughed quietly.

“Hey, I’m no coward.”

“I’m just teasing you, Lenin.” Perkins looked to the older deputy. “And this ‘ere is Deputy Rainer. My oldest man and very dependable. Ain’t got the skill set you have, I’m sure, but he’s good enough.”

Johnny nodded to them both. He looked around the area, seeing the blood covering the floor as well and looking at the door torn off its hinges. “There was a struggle inside?”

“Yup, whoever took ol’ Bob made a right mess in there. I’m guessing it attacked him inside and brought him out ‘ere after he’d given up fighting. Don’t ask me what could have done it.”

“No animal that I know of could tear the door from its hinges and enter the trailer.” With that, he made to enter the trailer itself. “Excuse me.”

The deputies looked to Perkins who nodded. They moved to the side and Johnny walked up the steps. The sight greeting him was one of a wreck. Clothes were strewn everywhere with the odd spatter of blood, the back windows were smashed and the drawers from the cupboard were on the floor. The television set, small and dinky, destroyed and smoking.

He examined the blue carpet. A long, brown hair could be seen. He picked it up and studied it. “Well, there’s a hair at least. But I doubt we have a grisly around here. And coyotes sure as hell couldn’t do this.”

The deputies stood in the doorway nodded their head. Perkins said, “Agreed. That’s why I want to go and hunt it down. You seen enough in ‘ere?”

Johnny stood and nodded slightly. “Yes, but why not call in help?”

“It’d take a while and we’ve had two disappearances in two days. Ain’t wanting there to be another. Besides, as we ain’t sure what’s done this, I’m not sure I want a lot of publicity around ‘ere. We kinda like our town nice and quiet.”

“I can understand that.” Johnny pushed his way through them again to the outside. “You got the guns and everything we’ll need? If I can find a track.”

“Sure have. And you’ll be able to find the thing’s tracks all right. We saw them out there, but we don’t want to be tracking it when we’re not too skilled. Besides, we thought you’d be handy to have around.”

Johnny nodded again. “I guess I am. We going on foot?”

“No, you’ll hop in the back of my jeep and we’ll drive along the desert nice and slow like, so you can keep your eyes on the tracks.”

“All right.” With that, Johnny walked around, taking care not to disturb any tracks. And sure enough, he saw some. Something stood upright must have made the tracks, though the tracks looked like they were made by paws. “It walks upright.” Johnny shook his head, perplexed. “All right, let’s get the show underway?”

“Yup, we’re just wasting time ‘ere.”

The deputies, Perkins and Johnny got into their cars and began the hunt, taking it nice and slow with Johnny looking at the tracks as they drove over the rugged, desert countryside.

#

The tracks eventually led them to a cave, where the mountains lay.  It was at their foot, thankfully, and Perkins had spoken about how relieved he was, complaining about how his arthritis would have made it hard going up a mountain. And besides, they didn’t have the equipment to go scaling mountains anyway. The cave and mountains themselves were a ways away from the small town of Cougar’s Run. They were positively out in the middle of nowhere and Cougar’s Run, with a population of only around one hundred to two hundred by Johnny’s estimation, was already in the middle of nowhere.

They slammed the doors shut and each picked up a flashlight and shotgun. “Well shit, I never thought I’d be entering a cave at my age. I’m liable to have a heart attack if anything comes at me in there.”

“You just keep at back, boss.”

Perkins looked at Lenin. “And let you go in front? I may as well just have my heart attack out ‘ere, right now.”

“You’ll be fine,” said Johnny. He pointed the flashlight into the cave’s pitch black mouth, loaded shotgun held in his other hand, muzzle pointing down.

“You see anything?” asked Rainer.

“No. Just darkness. Looks like we’re going to have to go in.”

“Just my luck. I should have retired when my wife starting nagging me to.”

“No point dwelling on that now. I’ll lead,” said Johnny. Flashlight held beside the shotgun, which was pointed in front now, he cautiously walked into the cave. The occasional of bats could be heard from within and the police followed him in, close behind.

The sound of boots walking on the hard cave floor echoed ever so slightly, the drip of water from stalactites and the bats’ noises drowning it out. The walls, with the exception of the odd gap, were barren and bland as expected. The cave’s winding path narrow. There were no off-shoots for them to explore, just one long path.

A screech sounded and a few bats suddenly flew right past them. Johnny glanced behind him, seeing that Rainer and Lenin had been startled a bit, but it was Perkins that worried him slightly, though he didn’t much care happened. It was just that there was safety in numbers and he was holding his chest, like the living daylights had been scared right out of him and he was feeling a heart attack coming on as he panted.

“Jesus,” said Perkins, quietly.

Johnny held his hand up to his mouth, signalling for Perkins to be quiet.

It was then that he heard a gnawing sound and what distinctly sounded like the crack of bones coming from up ahead. Reluctantly, Johnny shone the torch’s light down the cave tunnel and what he saw was a naked man – dirtied and bloodied – with short, brown hair, crouched over the corpse of the man who he assumed had been the one to go missing. His body was basically disembowelled and what the naked man gnawed on was an arm, skin completely gone with the bone exposed halfway up.

The naked man turned his head as the torch hit the back wall of the cave room, just in front of him. His eyes were savage, flesh dangling down from his lips. An inhuman scream erupted from him and hair began to grow all over his body, just like his nails extended, as he leapt up and charged towards them.

Johnny wasted no time in pointing the shotgun at the man and pulling the trigger, the force of the kickback knocking him back slightly and making his arms ache. The naked man flew back and hit the wall hard, his chest now a bloody mess. His growing nails and hair seemed stuck, in mid-transformation into whatever it was he was turning into. He gurgled blood and his entire body shook.

With the others approaching close behind, mouths agape, Johnny approached. He stepped over the bloody corpse of the man they had sought; the corpse of the other man who’d went missing in a corner.

The naked man tried to force out some words. “You’ll . . .  You’ll regret . . . this.” He started to laugh madly.

“Sure we will.” Johnny pumped the shotgun, aimed it at the man’s head and fired. The man’s head exploded and Johnny’s face was showered with blood, as was his clothing. Johnny pumped the shotgun again, aimed it at the man’s chest—

“He’s dead!” yelled Perkins, placing a firm hand on Johnny’s shoulder.

Johnny turned around, eyes wild. Perkins stumbled backwards, and Johnny shook his head slightly, disbelieving that he nearly struck Perkins. “Sorry . . .”

“It’s all right,” said Perkins, and his deputies surrounded him on either side. “Jesus, what the hell was this fuck? Hair suddenly growing and nails lengthening. Eating another man. He couldn’t have made those paw prints, could he?”

Johnny wiped his hands on his shirt, but it was no good. He looked to Perkins. “If he could turn so hairy and grow fingernails that long in such a short amount of time, I’d say it’s possible he could have been the one responsible for the paw prints.” He shook his head again. “Werewolves. . . . All of that shit could be true.”

Johnny noticed Rainer move to inspect the corpse by the wall, also half-eaten. “Well, what do we do now? The freak’s dead and so are these two.”

“I didn’t like the warning he gave,” said Lenin.

“Most likely just empty threats.”

 “Possibly,” said Johnny. “Look, we want to scare everyone, telling them about this freak? I say we leave him here, possibly take the corpses back.”

“Good idea. We’ll do that.”

“All right. The bar will be about ready to close, but I reckon we might be able to convince Carl to let us get a few drinks to celebrate and relax. I know I sure as hell could use it.”

“Sounds like a plan, right boys?”

“Yeah,” said the deputies in unison.

---

Future Releases

I recently released a second short story, at around half the length of The Dead Should Stay Dead, called Gus. It's a non-horror story, and more literary in nature, while being centred around emotion rather than providing an in-depth character study or an in-depth story. It also allowed me to offer some social commentary. There's a link to it up above if you click the short stories tab anyway and it's had one review, putting the current rating at 4/5 stars. Thanks again for the great review, by the way.

So, this leads me to my future plans. I'm not really keen on announcing future projects when they're in progress. They are quite liable to be abandoned, as my blog shows. That said, my plan for the next three months is to hopefully write a few more short stories and bundle them together. Hopefully I'll manage to do so, as the more titles I have out, the greater the chances of someone happening across my work. Also, I may or may not sell the new titles individually.

I also hope to release one story that is at least novelette length, 7,500 - 17,500 words, which would likely be in the horror genre. I do have another project in the pipeline that will hopefully be at least novelette length, but I probably won't get two done in that time-frame, plus I'm having a bit of trouble with it. You can see short excerpts from it in the last blog post on editing

So, in summary, I'm hoping to have at least 3 - 4 titles released in the next three months. But again, I'm not going to promise I will. The projects I mentioned here may change as well.

Thing is with writing is that I find it's hard to get something I'm satisfied with, hence projects being abandoned. I can't churn out 2 - 4 books a month, at 30,000 words each, like others do as I have enough trouble as it is being happy with a short story. 1) The quality would quite possibly suffer, which wouldn't be fair on readers. 2) I won't allow myself to, unless I'm sure they're of a high quality, even though I need the money because I care too much about my writing. 3) I simply can't work that fast, despite having no job at the minute, but that may change.

So yeah, hopefully I'll have at least 3 - 4 more titles available in the next three months.

Ebook Piracy: How It Affects Authors

So, yesterday, I was already feeling a bit down after having a local library say they wouldn't let me advertise my work. I came home and, in the evening, I find that my first short story The Dead Should Stay Dead has been uploaded to websites for people to freely download without me seeing a penny. As I've been feeling very jaded with everything of late, this has not helped me in the slightest.

I hope this post shows pirates how what you're doing affects the people who produce the material that you so freely take. (I might add that one of the sites I saw charges a membership fee, so they're essentially getting paid for letting other download my work and that of others without us giving permission)

It must have been copied and uploaded when I used the free promo days that Amazon gives, as I noticed that it was uploaded in May. On one site, of three that I saw, it had been viewed about 274 times. I don't know how many downloads that translated to (and it may not seem like many views), but to give an indicator of my financial situation, I'm lucky that my family keep me, else I'd probably be on the streets. So, every penny helps me and you're content to get my work for free. I can somewhat understand it if you're pirating works by well-known authors, and please note 'somewhat' (I don't condone it), because they are wealthy. But to do it to people who are scraping by? There's an argument to be made that I'm charging too much for the short story as well, but 77p/0.99c is the lowest I can charge at Amazon. The work is of a high quality as well, in technical terms (I'll leave readers to talk about the content). If I could set the price lower, I would. Also, if I had more work to bundle together, I'd have done that, but writing's not easy and it takes me quite a while to get something I'm happy with. In three months, I've published two short stories and the latest one is something I finished after starting it in 2009. I have numerous abandoned projects that I could easily polish off and upload without a care. So, I'm not exactly able to put a compilation together and my financial situation dictates that I need income.

This leads me to consider the latest short story I published. It is enrolled in KDP Select again, but I am now considering whether it's worthwhile using the free days if it's only going to be pirated again, especially as my sales may as well be zero each month if I don't factor in friends. But if I don't give it away for free, then how, exactly, will my work get noticed? And no, I've seen no influx of sales after my work has been pirated. I'm at about 9 sales total, across both stories, since first publishing. I can't even get at what little money I've earnt either, and on top of that, Amazon will take a cut of it for tax reasons when I do finally earn enough, if I do ($10/£10 to cash out and I've probably made £2-3 total across all regions).

So, in summary, I can't understand why you'd want to pirate an author's work who is struggling to get by, where even 26p per sale, which is what I get in the UK, makes a large difference. Please think about the effect you're having on people's income when you're pirating their work.

And, because I find what a specific game company did to combat piracy rather smart (they're a small indie developer), you may want to take a look at this:

http://www.greenheartgames.com/2013/04/29/what-happens-when-pirates-play-a-game-development-simulator-and-then-go-bankrupt-because-of-piracy/

Bottom line, indie authors, above all need support. In addition, the authors you love may stop writing if they're not making enough of an income.

(As an aside, the fact that my work was pirated brings into question whether or not Amazon's DRM is worth using.)

Amazon Adds A Mailing List Feature

Just thought I'd take the time to plug my writing a bit more, while also informing people that Amazon have added a new feature to 'author pages'. When you browse author pages on www.amazon.com, there'll be a link saying 'E-mail me when there are new releases by'. If you click it, then you should be emailed whenever the author brings a new book out. It's a really nice feature, especially for me, because I thought I'd have to put a mailing list together at some point and I have no idea to go about it.

So yeah, if you like my writing, please visit http://www.amazon.com/David-Gilmore/e/B00CG6GPTQ/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_1 and click the email link there to be mailed when I release something new. I should, in the next three months, have around 6 titles out, I hope. 4 - 6 titles anyway, of varying lengths and genres.

On Tight Writing & Editing

I want to talk about tight writing and editing today. I also thought it'd be an opportunity to show a few scattered sentences from the first scene of the novelette/novella I'm working on (sort of brief snippets showcasing the plot if you will). It's the main reason I've been inactive, though I'm also editing a novel for a friend, which is cutting into my time.

Currently, I've got 5,600 words written and I'm wrestling with it. Adding/deleting scenes as necessary. Trying to wrap my head around the story itself, as it's a more complex story than I'm used to writing. I'm also trying to decide whether to keep the basic plot and add in a new main character, which could lead to a series. But while I could use most of what I've written if I were to do that, I'd question why I've written nearly 6,000 words, so I'm probably going to plod on with the piece for good or ill as I don't want to keep abandoning projects. And yep, I know, don't edit till it's done. But I need the content right before continuing and I'm a rather quick editor, so my writing time isn't cut into much.

Anyway, what you'll be looking at here are sentences that are straight from my head, with one editing pass. So, they may or may not be perfect. Keep in mind this is me self-editing as well and people aren't good at editing their own work. Also, with it being excerpts from a work in progress, you are seeing possible story elements that may be present in the finished story. So you may want to avoid reading this, if you've enjoyed my published short on Amazon, The Dead Should Stay Dead, and intend to pick up my next story. On the flipside, there may be no spoilers if things end up differently in the final version. I can never tell with works in progress what's staying and what's being deleted.

1) James Redfield was sat in his office with a cigarette in his hand and he had the Statham Evening News open on his rather barren desk. He looked at the headline, 'Another Death At Manderly Home', read the bit below, and then turned to the page where it continued to resume reading. (52 words)

Revised:

James Redfield, sat behind his desk with a cigarette in his hand, viewed the front page of the Statham Evening News. The headline read, 'Another Death At Manderly Home'. He read the bit below and turned to the page where it continued. (43 words)

Now, the above is actually the first few sentences from the work in progress. You'll note that I had 'was' in the first sentence and I removed it in the revised version. There's a case to be made for the tense seeming off. But I rather dislike 'was' being in there. I think it's clear what's meant without 'was' in, too? I think it reads much better anyway.

And on further reflection, I could probably tweak 'sat behind his desk with a cigarette in his hand' to 'sat behind his desk and holding a cigarette'.

Anyway, I'm not sure yet about 'was', but I think it reads better. It's not an exact science when it comes to editing work either, really. 'Rules' are just there to help with communication.

2) She pulled the chair out from under his desk and sat, rummaged in her handbag and pulled out a little advertisement before shoving it back into her handbag and putting her handbag down beside her. "You must be James Redfield." (40 words)

Revised:

She pulled the chair out from under his desk and sat, rummaged in her handbag and pulled out a little piece of paper before returning it back inside and putting her handbag down. "You must be James Redfield." (38 words)

The revised example is not much tighter at all. But the revision was mostly made to help prevent using 'handbag' too many times. And again, I've noticed how it can be further reworked from 'before returning it back inside' to ', placed it back and put her handbag down'. Funny how you see better ways of revising after you've done the first edit.

Final example from my own writing and this is the main teaser.

3) "You think she's making this up or has mental issues? She isn't and she has always had all her marbles." Janet frowned. "She mentioned that the new head had been leaning over him. Faces practically touching. And his head wasn't turned sideways. His face was directly facing the dead man's, lips opposite each other, from what she could make out." (60 words)

Revised:

"You think she's making this up or has mental issues? She isn't and she has always been all there." Janet frowned. "She mentioned that their lips had been practically touching when the new head had been leaning over him. It was like the head was kissing Gerald." (47 words)

I'm not sure how happy I am with the revised version above yet, but I think it's still much better. I realise this 3rd example seems odd too, but all you really need to know is that there's an abnormal spate of deaths at the home. Natural causes being cited as the reason. And suspicion has fell on the head of the home. I suppose that if you read horror/supernatural stuff, you're used to weirdness anyway. ;)

So, you see how a rough draft is and how it is refined into a more readable form with just one editing pass? A lot of it is due to tightening.

But you know how I said editing isn't an exact science? It isn't because grammar rules can be bent/ignored if it serves your story and there's the fact that having everything as tight as possible isn't always a good idea because it can compromise your style and character's voice. Sometimes taking the time to use more than the necessary words is worthwhile to establish character etc.

This is what I meant by editing isn't an exact science. It's not easy, as you always have to consider the author's style and character voice (I bet a lot of people could rewrite each of my own sentences in their own way, but that's not what editing is. You shouldn't be rewriting every sentence in the way you'd write it). People tell you to keep everything tight, but I've very rarely, if ever, seen anyone say that tightness shouldn't always be strived for. So, you have to weigh everything up. It's a judgement call.

The key, as I've said before, is to just make sure everything is as tight as possible, without compromising style and character voice. (You should note that I'm not talking about content here, simply tightness on a sentence by sentence basis.)