I'm moving out

I've been experiencing one or two technical glitches posting here so I've decided to give Live Journals a try. So please keep in touch, Go here: http://mylefteye.livejournal.com/

 

I must study

I got up this morning and thought: "I must take a leaf out of my friend Gerard's book (although not that 'Treatment of Financial Instruments' he's reading, thank you very much) and get some studying done."

Y'see, I enroled on a web-design course a couple of months ago, and thanks to the distractions of writing 'The Light Knight Returns' and 'Porridge and Uppers', I have barely scratched the surface of it. But 'LKR' is finished and submitted and 'P&U' is finished and waiting to be critted. Chris has offered to read it through for me. So if it passes his filters I'll drop it into the Critters queue and forget about it for a while.

So study, I must. I've no excuses now.

By ten of the morning clock I had started and completed another story. A micro fiction called 'Two Point Four Children'. It's a sequel to 'Tastes Like Chicken', which sold to SPACE SQUID magazine earlier this year.

Okay, that's done, I will now study. I will.

Arthritis, my arse.

Helen told me about that visit to her GP:

As she explained her symptoms -- back pain and sometimes in her right arm -- he typed her comments into his computer. He asked a couple of questions about the type of pain (dull, stabbing, burning?), then said, “Ah yes, arthritis.” Then, without taking his eyes off the screen he reached for his prescription pad and wrote down something off the screen. Two drugs. Helen and Mark looked them up later. One of them is an anti-inflammatory and the other a painkiller. So no doubt they will be effective whether she has pulled a muscle, trapped a nerve or any number of things. But arthritis?

As he’s given her an anti-inflammatory, one can only assume he means rheumatoid arthritis. But Helen has no swollen joints, or any of that redness or heat you would associate with rheumatoid arthritis. The doctor has just made a wild guess, not a diagnosis, based entirely on what his computer said. As my brother Steve said, "Arthritis, my arse."

Perhaps I should explain why arthritis has struck such a chilly note: there was a family friend who suffered the onset of arthritis in her twenties and she became crippled by it. She was bed-ridden and in constant pain all of her adult life. Eventually, surgeons removed her joints to give her surcease from the pain. God, she suffered, and her death was a blessing. Hers was an extreme case, but even so arthritis is one of those things that will give me sleepless nights if a young family member is ‘diagnosed’ with it.

The GP is a prat.

Sleepless

Had a dreadful night’s sleep. Went bed around midnight, but I remember seeing 3.20am come and go. Must have finally drifted off sometime after that.

Yesterday morning I was talking to a guy that came to replace some faulty bedroom lights. His name’s Andy. We were just chatting when Andy told me that his five-year-old son has a reduced life expectancy. There is a name for his condition, but it passed me by. The little boy breathes through a tube inserted in his throat and only has one lung. He had a cardiac failure at the age of two so he’s considered fortunate to have reached five. His dad phones him from work ten times a day. My thoughts, as he told me this, were naturally enough of Heather, also five. I tried for a second to imagine what this Andy’s world was like, but I realised I didn’t even want to go there as a tourist. How anyone can live and function there, I don’t know. I guess they have to.

In the afternoon I went to give blood. When I got home I felt tired and dozed off in a chair for over an hour.

My little sister Helen phoned in the evening. She admitted that for the past year she’s been suffering back pain, but hadn’t told anybody because of all the excitement of her marriage and buying a house. She went to see her GP yesterday, and he told her she has arthritis and prescribed painkillers. No examination, no X-Ray, no blood tests. He said that if the tablets help then it will confirm his diagnosis. Well, I have all respect for doctors, really I do, but in this instance I think the guy has his great fat head up his great fat arse. She should get a second opinion. I’m thinking of contacting the chiropractor my friend David mentioned in a recent posting. Just for advice. But I must speak to Helen and Mark, my new brother-in-law and good friend, first.

It was probably a combination of thinking about the Andy and his family, dwelling on what Helen’s back pain means and my falling asleep in the afternoon that kept me awake in the wee small hours of the morning. Thinking how much I love my family and what they mean to me, how I would take their illnesses and pain on myself if it would spare them. I recall my Mum saying that you love your children so much you would take their place rather than see them suffer. It’s true.

Jill and Heather have gone to Hanley today, to see the Aussie band Hi-5 performing live at the Victoria Hall. Andy’s terminally ill son will be there too, and arrangements have been made for him to meet the band afterward. Andy said he’ll try and get autographed photos and pop them in the post for Heather.

La Grippe, Porridge, Uppers . . .

The novella -- now called 'Porridge and Uppers' (which is just as bad a title as the original, 'La Grippe') is near completion. So confident I am of getting it done in a few days I submitted it to Critters. I will swap the file before it hits the top of the queue, hopefully! If I don't I'm gonna look pretty stoopid.

It stands at 12700 words now, with another 500-1000 required to finish it off. Further polishing may add to or subtract from that rather hefty total. So, a non-genre story (my first, although I'm sneaking it through Critters as a fantasy, ahem) and a novella to boot. God knows what I'm going to do with it. I'm used to looking at Ralan's for potential markets, I haven't a clue if markets exist for quirky historical fiction.

Suggestions on a postcard to the usual address.

Rogue dots

Last night I decided to write to several friends -- new and old -- in my address book. Some of them I haven't contacted for several months, or even years. I wanted to let them know how I'm faring and re-establish old ties. So I invited them to look at my revamped website at www.mylefteye.net

Now I must have typed the name mylefteye a thousand times.

I managed to invited everyone to my.lefteye.net (I didn't see the rogue dot!). That URL leads to an eyecare website.

Quite appropriate really.

Prevention is better than cure

Saw this response to bird flu somewhere on the Net. Had to share it.

Lasering my left eye

My left eye is better than the right. Since having a detached retina at sixteen, my right eye has always been pretty useless. Then there were those cataracts last year, which threw things out of balance and both eyes were abysmal. The operations were a success and I had lovely clear vison for a while, or at least as clear as I'm going to get with retinitis pigmentosa.

Just before Christmas my vision was clouding: this happens sometimes. It isn't the new lenses, but the old lens sacs that turn opaque. This can be rectified by laser treatment. There is, however, a small risk of irreparably damaging the eye with the laser. The doctors were very reluctant to do my left eye as the treatment could bugger it up entirely and I'd be reliant on the pretty useless right eye.

Lately though, it's been really getting me down. I can no longer read normal print, not fluently anyway. Two pages of a book will take ten minutes and I feel sick afterwards. Not worth the hassle. And I love to read. It's an escape. I know there are alternatives such as reading on a VDU or with magnifying equipment, but they lack -- for me anyway -- the relaxing, tactile quality of lounging in a chair with a great book.

So I'm taking the risk. I've made an appointment mid-May to go and see a specialist. It's a low risk, and the benefits will be enormous. Just that if it does go wrong, I'll be in a right mess. If I blank my left eye and use just my right, this screen just becomes a bright white square with a black border.

Bit late for a gap year, but...

I had to go to the doctor's yesterday to update my sick note. He's signed me off work -- even though I recently joined the ransks of the unemployed -- for a year. That's to give me time to get myself adjusted to this encroaching blindness, without being pressured to find work. Hopefully I can retrain and somehow get my confidence back.

A year. Kind of good news I never wanted to hear. Does that make sense?

Let's all pester Blair

There are signs that some of the promises made regarding debt relief for Africa at the G8 summit in Scotland will not be honoured. Politicians, eh. Slippery bastards.

I don't know if these things make a difference. I guess they must do, or organisations like Oxfam wouldn't waste resources on them. So click below and send Blair a message. Tell him you think debt relief is important to end poverty in the world. The message is already typed in, you just have to add your name and address and click SEND. How easy is tha? And it might make a difference.

http://www.oxfam.org.uk/what_you_can_do/imin/action/tonyblair02.htm?ito=2376&itc=0

'Soapocryphal' sold

Dred magazine has bought another story of mine.

'Soapocryphal' was first published in Fusing Horizons magazine, May 2004. Dred publisher/editor Bill Hughes admitted that, having already purchased two of my stories and being awash with submissions anyway, he was heavily biased against taking 'Soapocryphal'. . . until he read it. Then he felt he had no choice but to take it. His sub-editor seconded the motion and that was that. I'd scored a hat-trick at Dred!

My fifth reprint too.

Ebay follow-up

The Verve paperback fetched £28.

Just as unbelievable are the empty plastic sleeves I listed. I nearly chucked them away, but then thought what the heck, seeing as I'm listing other stuff I may as well list these. They're just vinyl sleeves that came with some U2 singles I bought years ago. There's a piece of purple card in them that says U2 4PLAY and U2 PAC II. They fetched £9 and £3 respectively.

Amazed I am, but pleased.

eBay surprises

I bought a book a year ago, on eBay. I paid about 40p for it, plus a bit extra for p&p. A Verve (the indie band) biography. I've read it and, while thinking it was okay, knew I would not be reading it again. One for the charity shop.

But as I'm listing some other bits and pieces this week, I thought I may as well list this book. I started it at 70p. Someone bid that amount pretty quickly and there it stayed. Until this morning when it jumped to £26. What? Shome mishtake, surely. But no, someone else has topped that with a bid for £27.99. The auction ends Sunday. I for one can't wait.

eBay. You gotta love it!

Word counting

I did a spreadsheet. In column [a] I wrote the titles of my completed stories to date. In column [b] I entered the wordcount of those stories that have been accepted for publication, and in column [c] I placed the wordcounts of those stories I have yet to find a home for.

Results:
I have sold 15 stories over a thousand words in length.
I have sold/published 13 stories under a thousand words in length.
Total wordcount = 73,500 (not counting reprints).

In column [c] lies 5 stories over a 1000 words in length and numerous flash pieces and micros totalling 23,000 words,

I'm not counting the 90,000 word novel (because it's just too heartbreaking to think about!).

Conclusion: I have written and sold enough words to quaify for a collection. So publishers looking for an eclectic slection of SF, fantasy and horror fiction should form an orderly queue.

You take up writing, you become obsessed with plots and characters, themes and conclusions. Then you join a writers' workshop in an effort to improve your technical skills. You become inundated with advice. People line up to stamp on your tautologies (ouch!) and pour words of wisdom into your head. Hundreds of hours see you stooped over a keyboard perfecting your craft. You have to if you want to get anywhere, right?

Well, d'you know who the third biggest selling author is on this planet?

Roger Hargreaves.

The Mr Men books.

I can't think of anything to say to that. It just seems so wrong.

But then I'm a little biased because I've had to read three of these 'delightful' books every night for the past four years to my darling daughter. They wear a little thin, after a while.

'The Butcher Shop Quartet' has gone to the printers. Boyd E. Harris and Frank L. Hutton will be taking it to the World Horror Convention in San Francisco, May 11-14.

http://www.whc2006.org/

I can't believe how many copies are being printed. Pick a number between 1 and 2001. And aim high. Very high. The publishers are showing a lot of faith in the contents. And as I provided a quarter of those contents, I can only hope they are justified.

And I hope they booked a big table at the convention.

Boyd is doing a website, I'll post a link as soon as he's done.

Wow.

'Pretty Useless' lives!

As it may be a day or so yet before Chris Hall completes the mammoth task of overhauling mylefteye.net, I'll announce it here that my story 'Pretty Useless Says' is now live at www.dredtales.com

And pretty lovely it looks too. Check it out folks, and let me know what you think.

Oh, yes, and besides that . . .

In yesterday's post I rattled on about submitting 'The Light Knight Returns'. I forgot to mention what was probably a bigger event in my life -- I was officially made redundant after 22 years. I got the (not-so-fat) cheque, the sweaty handshake and the "Thanks for all your hard work over the years, if there's anything we can do..." spiel.

And that, I suppose, was very much that. Now what? The DHSS, I suppose. For the time being.

The Light Knight submitted

This evening I saw a new listing on Ralan.com, for a new mag called 'Forgotten Worlds'. Looks seriously smart, pays pretty well and it's British. Accepts electronic submissions too, so despite having made the grave error in the past of submitting a story too soon, I've gone and sent them 'The Light Knight Returns'. I literally did a quick read-thru-cum-revision, adding a coupla hundred words in the process, then attached it to an email and pressed SEND before I could change my mind!

If impatience is a sin, then boy, I am gonna burn.

The Light Knight Critiqued

The following will mean nothing to those who have not read 'The Light Knight Returns'. And may well not interest those that have.

Well, it's been a week in Critters, and 'The Light Knight Returns' has attracted . . . well, modesty forbids me to say just how well it's gone down with the few people who bothered to read it. What can I say, I'm a giant in the field of English literature. I got about ten crits, which is less than I expected. BUT the quality of the crits was amazing. It seems as though, as the writing was tight as a gnat's chuff and typos rarer than rocking horse shit (you are the only one to spot a tyoo, GB), folks dived much deeper into the story, and came up with some interesting points.

As far as the actual storytelling is concerned, I have changed the POV of the opening scene to that of Tommy, the more important of the two main characters. I've tweaked the barbecue scene slightly (with added popcorn) and bolstered Tommy's roleplaying prior to his suicide so that it includes a religious flavour, as one reader thought (and I agree), his subsequent 'resurrection' came out of the blue. Another alteration is the killing of Steve Ellis, aka the Pike. I've rewritten the ending so that rather than have him killed in a revenge attack, the Light Knight merely teaches him a harsh lesson. Poetic justice, rather than cold-blooded revenge. It is what a true superhero would do. I'm still undecided about this. So much so, I've retained my original ending on file so I can always revert to it. Oh, and something else that confused readers was the boys' ages. So I've made that concrete in the opening lines.

Other excellent ideas I've yet to incorporate are having Tommy sleeping with the curtains open to recharge from starlight, and acting as though he is physically weaker by day and going everywhere with his battery backpack a la Light Knight. I loved that idea.

Going deeper, the last critter wondered whether my theme needs tweaking, to pinpoint where its focus lies. Ellis aka the Pike is the archvillain of the piece, but he's a single thug and not representative of the world in general, and so the ending, as solidly written as it is, might actually not be a natural conclusion/destination. To clarify that, Tommy defeats the Pike and then decides he will use his new God-like powers to protect animals the world over. I think this is what my first critter was saying, really, that Tommy/the Light Knight taking up the mantle of animal protector is not really that well signposted. His feud with the Pike stems from the incident where the Pike is killing frogs, but is that enough of a seed, in story terms, to say that Tommy is a champion of animal rights? I thought it was. I thought an eight year old boy standing up to a massive thug over some frogs is a sure sign that he's an 'animal person'. But it looks like I need to make a few adjustments.

So that's that. Well, there's a lot more ctually, but you're bored already, I can tell. Aye, a few more hours of work and maybe I'll have something to send off to The Magazine of Fantasy & Science Fiction.

I wish.

This is the pic that will grace the cover of the eagerly awaited (by me, anyway!) Butcher Shop Quartet anthology. There's talk of a montage, featuring the four writers involved -- Boyd Harris, Clinton Green, A T Andreas and myself -- going on the back cover. Nothing definite, but I hope it comes to pass. My pic on a book: now that would be cool.

My writer's copy of Twisted CAt Tales arrived today, and I must say Coscom know how to put a book together. And Esther Schrader did a great job with the editing too. When I first saw the number of contributers, I was a little nonplussed. There are summat like 35 writers in here. But a random dip has proved that (a) the stories are quality, and (b) they are all reasonablt short and sweet. All in all, a book I'm very proud to be in.

Web design

I mentioned, oooh ages ago, that I was embarking on a course of web page design. Well, I started last week and today I completed assignment 3. That's 3 assignments in one week. 10 completes the course! But having scouted ahead, I see it gets much more involved than what I've been doing so far. It's pretty useful having a web-wise mate too, in the shape of Chris Hall. He's been checking my work, putting me straight on certain things. I think he enjoys playing teacher.

And while I'm on the subject, Chris is also in the process of giving my website www.mylefteye.net a serious revamp. It's stripped down at the moment, but when it gets relaunched in a couple of weeks time, it'll be a much darker affair than the previous incarnation.

Failed

Poor Jill. She's been gearing herself up for days now, all ready to take her driving test this morning. She's proper deflated having failed it for speeding. Speeding, ha! Way to go, Jill.

The New Cartlidge

So sister Helen became a Cartlidge. Well, she changed her name on marrying. She'll always be a Stone to me, I guess, just as she'll always be my baby sister.

 

The service was pleasant at Caverswall Church, if climatically challenged. I was cold in my thick woollen suit so how Helen, Jill and Heather felt in their flimsy gowns, I can't imagine. Mark looked dapper, and when he said his vows I could tell he really meant every word. Intense is a good word, I think, to describe Mark's expression. Or maybe he was trying not to laugh. Both the bride and groom had a fit of the giggles at the rehearsal last week, but there were no such lapses yesterday. Helen just looked beautiful, as did my wife and daughter. But if I felt a warm glow inside it was lost in the cold.

 

At the reception both my dad and Mark excelled themselves with their speeches. Neither of them -- despite my warnings, I've been there -- bothered to write a few words down, and paid the price when Mrs Stagefright clasped them to her frigid bosom. Dad opened with something mildly amusing; everyone tittered, and then that was it for several long seconds while he desperately tried to follow it up. Poor sod, I felt for him. Mark, meanwhile, fell back on the old "My new wife and I..." gambit, which always gets a cheer. The food was pretty good.

 

The evening reception, complete with disco, was a huge success so far as Heather was concerned. She scampered off to the dancefloor and stayed there most of the night, only returning to the family grouping for sips of lemonade. A few people fell over, the worse for wear, while others watched and said silent prayers that it wouldn't be 'their lot' that let the side down next. The family Stone stayed upright, but that's cos we all sat in a corner nursing Cokes and lemonades. But, you know, I envied those that could relax and let themselves go on the dancefloor. They were the ones having the best time.

 

Three cheers for Mark and Helen! 

   

A Bit of a Do

My little sister Helen is getting married to Mark today. A great bloke is Mark (he reads fantasy and horror, what more d'you need to know?), and I couldn't be happier for Helen.

The whole shebang has been planned with precision, no room for error. Wedding is 2pm at Caverswall Church, a reception at the Tollgate Hotel, 4pm, and a bit of a do at 8pm, also at the Tollgate.

Jill is the matron of honour and Heather the bridesmaid. Should be some nice family pictures to take. I seem to have been elected the man with the video camera.

Battery charged? check. Spare battery? Tape rewound? check. Lens cap off?

TGIF

Know what the worst thing about being unemployed is? Not getting that "Yippee!" feeling on Friday afternoons. I miss that.

Morphs and Cannibals

The work-in-progress is 'La Grippe', which was a name for the influenza that ravaged the world in 1918/19.

I started this story thinking it was about two guys who, after demobilisation, travel Europe and kinda get lumbered with a beautiful girl who happens to be stricken with the deadly flu. That's how it started.

But the whole thing is morphing on me. I've got this tale taking shape which is more to do with the two friends coming to terms with their own post-war traumas. The girl is still the catalyst, but no longer the focus of things. Which probably makes no sense to anyone, but hey, I don't try to analyse these things. For me, this is exactly what makes writing great. You set out with an idea and make some attempt to guide it in the general direction you want it to take. Sometimes it follows the intended path and sometimes it wanders into unexpected terrain. I think I enjoy the latter more.

One of my first attempts at writing a fiction was called 'Ricochet'. This was rejected by WEIRD TALES magazine, but the editor was kind enough to tell me why it didn't make the grade. So I took the middle part and wrote a complete new story called 'The Emigrant', of which I am enormously proud, although I have yet to sell it. I then took the other half of 'Ricochet' and wrote 'The Devil's Fauna', another one I'm proud of. There were still a few bits left over so I used some of it in a story called 'Clob', and another passage went into its sequel, 'Japanese Motorcycle Clob'. I've just grabbed a leftover scene for the current work, 'La Grippe'.

Waste not, want not.

Not as simple as I thought

I received a folder full of learning material from ICS a couple of weeks ago, in relation to a webpage design course I've enrolled on. The disc didn't work -- it wouldn't install. I've sent to emails to the customer service dept and left a voice message on their phone service. No reply. That sucks. Really sucks. My union, UNITY, have paid for this, retraining me seeing as how I've lost my job. They've forked out nearly £400 and ICS can't even be bothered to sort out a poxy CD.

On a brighter note, I received a penultimate(?) edit of 'Kasper Clark' from the editor of BSQ. I'm delighted with the results. If the other stories have received as much attention as mine (maybe they didn't need as much attention -- now there's a sobering thought), then this anthologI is going to be the best thing that's happened to me, writer-wise. Can't wait to get my hands on a copy.

I've also completed a revision of 'The Uinta Incident' for WORLDS APART, utilising some of the techniques I learned from the BSQ editor. I'm proud of that story too.

I'm currently writing my influenza story set in 1919. As I mentioned in a previous post, I already have a 9000 word story with the required plot in my scraps folder. I thought I could use it as a template, changing the first person narrative to third person and distilling the dialogue. Not a chance. It's not as simple as it sounds. I've just scrapped the first 2000 words I produced on Monday and Tuesday. I'm starting from scratch. Writing Lesson No. 49967: There are no shortcuts. Do the work!

Lately

Graham Joyce is one of my favourite writers. If you've yet to 'discover' him, try 'The Tooth Fairy' or 'The Facts of Life'. You will thank me.

Meanwhile, read his blog (called Lately) at www.grahamjoyce.net His posts are often funny and always a great read. His most recent, "Sayeth the Fool", is no exception.

Happy Birthday, Jill!

A little quiz, just to pass the time of day.

Complete the following.
1. The ______ ____ Steps' by John Buchan.
2. WW2 started in the year nineteen ______ ____
3. Three times thirteen equals ______ ____

And that's that.

By the way, it's my wife Jill's birthday today. Happy birthday, lover!

She wishes to keep her age a secret. I respect that.

'The Uinta Incident' sold

I'm chuffed to report another story sale. This time it's my sf/fantasy crossover 'The Uinta Incident' that has found a home. I submitted it to CONTINUUM SF magazine before Christmas. The editor/publisher Bill Rupp emailed this morning to ask if he can take it for a new project he's launching (he doesn't say when, but I'm guessing it'll be 2007) called WORLDS APART. I've emailed him to ask what the payment and contract will be, but if it's the same as for CONTINUUM then I will be quite satisfied.

The asylum smells fresh

Ah, there's nothing like the smell of fresh paint and new wallpaper. Especially when someone else has done all the grafting. The decorators have left the asylum as bright as a new pin.

And as I have had to stay out of their way, I've spent a lot of time sitting at my PC mulling over a new story. After a false start or three, I think I've finally started to nail down my characters. It's called (for the time being) 'La Grippe' and it's about two very different ex-soldiers left with similar problems after the Great War. 'La Grippe' already exists in the form of an 8000 word story I wrote this time last year. But that version, as much as I enjoyed writing it, has never left my 'Scraps' folder. It was written for an anthology that asked authors to audition by sending in a previous work. I submitted my story 'Clob', and then, with uncharacteristic confidence, I wrote 'La Grippe' -- complete with copyrighted characters and settings -- for the anthology.

I failed the audition. 'La Grippe' was a white elephant. A writer's folly.

So I've ripped out all the characters, leaving just the basic plot behind and the occasional line of dialogue, and begun the task of weaving my two ex-soldiers into the framework.

Ah, the asylum does smell fresh.

Put the boot in

I've had all the stuff come through for my Internet course from ICS. How to build web pages. Actually, it came last week but I wanted to get all the decorating over and done with before starting it. Well, the decorators are still here but I'm no longe required so I thought I'd insert the disc and install the software. No go. The disc should autorun but for some reason it isn't. I tried going to the START menu, selecting RUN and typing 'd:\setup.exe' but that didn't work. I've explored the CD. but there doesn't seem to be any actual setup program on it. So, what do I do now? It seems a bit sad, not being able to do a course cos I'm unable to even intsall the software!

Simmering, condensing, distilling

The decorators have taken over the asylum so I've locked myself away in the bedroom. A day spent at the PC is never wasted though. I went over 'The Light Knoght Returns' yet again, changing this, that and the other. And the wordcount has fallen another 300 words. Hell, at this rate it's gonna be a piece of flash fiction I present to the Critters writers' workshop.

I've also had my first creative block . . . attempting to write a Father of the Bride speech for Dad. Sister Helen is getting married in a couple of weeks, and Dad has asked me to write his speech. I've been given strict instructions: no saucy jokes, no soppy bits, and no robots, zombies or werewolves!

"But Dad..."

I said, no."

He's being unreasonable.

Well done, Gerard

Gerard Brennan, whose contribution to the Badass Horror anthology I had the pleasure of editing, has won the Demented Nursery Rhyme contest held by Champagne Shivers. His entry 'The Trial' came first out of 200 submissions. That's no mean feat. So well done, Gerard!

Today I managed to find the time to do a healthy revision of my story 'The Light Knight Returns'. The bulky superhero, who weighed in at over 8000 words, managed to shed over 1k and now stands at a far trimmer 6900 words in his spandex tights. So well done, me!

Tonight I had the pleasure of watching U2 fans on eBay do battle for some old bits of vinyl I have. Several singles equals £105. So well done me, again!

A 'Pretty Useless' Sale!

Just had an email from editor/publisher of Dred Magazine, ( www.dredtales.com ) Bill Hughes. He's accepted my story of online-game sniping 'Pretty Useless Says'. I am of, course, pretty chuffed.

Demented Nursery Rhymes

My mate Gerard sent me a couple of his demented Nursery Rhymes, which he has submitted for publication. I was pretty imoressed and set out to have a go myself. Below is as far as I got. It's doing my bloody head in. Please, if anyone should so wish, feel free to add/finish it off.

 

Humpty Dumpty bought a hotel,

(Formerly called the Bates Motel).

An all-round good egg, this tale is sad,

For who would have guessed, Humpty would turn bad?

 

There checked in a female guest,

In need, she said, of plenty of rest.

Humpty gave her the key to Room 3,

Rushing off to use the spyhole in 3B!

 

Rumpy pumpy was not on the cards,

Tumpty tumpty da da dada (this line escapes me)

So chagrined he was, to find his view marred,.

By a curtain and steam as dense as brocade. (not sure about this either)

 

‘Damn and bother!’ He rushed to Room 3,

‘I will sneak in, she will see nor hear me.’

At the hurry-up, tripping on a towel,

Humpty gave himself away with a howl.

 

Lady maybe, but no fool was her,

She whisked him up, with a loofah.

Till all the best cleaners and all the best staff,

Would never get rid, the soufflé in the bath.

Cloud Nine

My novella, 'The Reconstruction of Kasper Clark', has been accepted for inclusion in The Butcher Shop Quartet. Any regular readers of this blog will know, without being told, how chuffed I am to announce this.

Immortality

On The Gadget Show this week, one of the presenters was chatting to a futurologist who works for BT. Basically, this guy's job is to analyse current trends in science and technoogy and advise his company which ones are viable and worthy of time and investment, and which are probably dead ends.

BT are interested in the way we interface with our computers via Qwerty keyboads, speech and controllers like mice and sticks... An alternative to these methods of imput is being sought. Electrical impulses pass through the skin, so by laying the hand on a sensor-pad and training the computer-user, a system of commands can be built up where certain thoughts trigger certain electrical impulses which are then transmitted through this sensor pad. This already with us and under development. Okay, the next step would be a direct interface with the brain -- that's about about 25 years away according to this futurologist. In about 40-50 years we may well be able to download our minds onto storage devices. Make a back-up copy of your brain! The next logical step would then be downloading this personality into... what? Vat-grown bodies cultured from your own cells? Androids?

I watched this with Heather sittting beside me and thought, "Wow", she might never die, never pass out of existence. I've often marvelled at the changes my grandma mist have seen, being born at the start of the twentieth century and dying in the twenty-first. But it looks like the next few generations are in for some amazing stuff too.

My Left Eye

I handed my sick note in to work today, to no one's great surprise. I'll go back in seven weeks time to pick up my redundancy cheque and that will be that.

Chris Hall is revamping my site for me. www.mylefteye.net was something of a rush job. Chris wanted more time to work out a design whereas I wanted a site up and running before the Bew Year so I could shout about some good news. But now I'm a man of leisure and he's had more time to think about it we're looking at some alternative themes to run with, and some of the ideas look pretty damned good. Far better than the current one.

I've popped THE LIGHT KNIGHT RETURNS in the queue at critters.org. It's not really finished, but I have plenty of time to fix that before it's due for critiquing. 7800 words (I cut a helluva lot out this morning), and just an epilogue to add. I'm pleased with it.

Early finish

This morning I went down the doctor's to explain how work is getting on top of me. He didn't have the most recent reports from the hospital regarding my eyesight, but once I brought him up to date he seemed to think that a factory is not a safe place for me. And I agreed. So that's it. He signed me off the remaining seven weeks and I no longer have to serve out my redundancy period. I turned my last mould out on Friday without even knowing it. If I'd known I would have ... well, it wouldn't have made any difference, I suppose. Just feels odd, turning my back on a job after 22 years. There should have been some sort of little 'farewell'. Tomorrow I might don a flat cap and scarf and visit my old workmates, tell em how well  I'm coping with retirement.

Anniversary

Today is my twelfth wedding anniversary. Presents? I made Jill a cup of tea and she gave me a pair of pyjamas. Hmm. I think we've drifted into that relaxed comfort zone where you don't need to state the bleeding obvious like 'I love you', swap cards or buy flowers. Maybe I will next year, just to surprise her, but I imagine I said that last year.

On the writing front, for anyone following my path to superstardom (ha!) -- THE LIGHT KNIGHT RETURNS is near completion. Give me a week, it should be done. 10,000 words. Another biggie. I can't really call it a first draft as this is a reworking of a story I wrote nearly 3 years ago, one of my first actually. I thought it was great at the time, but once I'd gathered a bit more experience, I realised it was pretty rough. Loads of flashbacks and POV slips made it a confusing jumble of scenes. (Having said that, my mate Russell still regards TLKR as his favourite story.)

A couple of years ago I decided to make THE LIGHT KNIGHT RETURNS the basis of my second novel, a sequel to the unpublished LEMON. Since then I've decided to rewrite LEMON, working THE LIGHT KNIGHT RETURNS into it, rather than as a standalone sequel. And now, here I am writing it as a short story again. I'm still harbouring the fantasy of making it a novel, but I see this as a way experimenting with certain characters and settings before wasting tens of thousands of words going down wrong roads with the novel. Also, I can get some feedback on the short story, find out whether the idea floats or not. It is far-fetched, even by my own yardstick of far-fetched, which is more of a milestick really.

Sickie

Today I got up at 5.40am as per usual, had a wash, got dressed, put the kettle on, switched it off, got undressed and climbed back in bed. Yep, I took a day off work. A sickie. No excuse except I had to chisel the fireplace out preparaory to a load of decorating/improvements to the lounge and I wanted to do it this morning so as to disturb our neighbour, Beryl. Thoughtful, ain't I?

On the publishing front my story NO DOGS ALLOWED is out now in 'Twisted Cat Tales', available on Amazon. Also out there is RAISING ARCHIE at www.electricspec.com, SHEEP at www.dredtales.com and a few other print ones. See the full range of my success at www.mylefteye.net Thank you.

Pigeon-holed

I haven't updated for a few days. I've got as far as logging on but stalled at the thought of spouting what's on my mind. Y'see, I've had a load of stuff in the post -- forms, letters, certificates and the like -- relating to my new 'blind' status. And it's getting me down a bit. I daresay all this stuff is to my benefit in the long run, but . . .

Take yesterday, for example. I had a visit from a social worker who demonstrated all the various aids I can have to keep me safe around the home and outdoors. Touch dials for cookers and washing machines, beepers that tell me when a cup I'm filling from the kettle is full, daylight bulbs, dense glasses, the white cane . . . A phrase she was fond of was 'keeping your independence'.

I don't need any of these things yet. I know I will do one day, and sooner than I'm willing to admit, and I do appreciate these kindly souls telling me they're there for when I need them. But not just yet, eh? I don't want to claim this, that and the other -- become a statistic. When I do, that's when I lose my independence as far as I'm concerned.

'Kasper' still hanging in there

I got an email last night from one of the editors of Butcher Shop Quartet. My story, novella, novelette, whatever-you-wanna-call-it, is now definitely short shortlisted. My story, says Boyd, is stupendous, a real thinking man's story. He loves it. But....

(Now why did the But have to come along and spoil the show?)

But there's one sticking point: he can't envisage Kasper Clark's deformity, the whole mouth in the forehead business isn't quite gelling for him. And I can't say I blame him. I hadn't properly envisaged it myself, so what chance the reader? So this morning, with a heavy sigh and a profound sense of deja vu, I plunged into 'Kasper Clark' again. And d'you know what? I think I've nailed it! I started to think about the physical attributes such a mouth would have to have, the muscle and bone structure, pictured lips like a sphincter and bang! 'Kasper Clark' is another 1000 words longer and, I feel, finished. No really, it's finished. I know I've said that before, twice at least. But this time it is definitely finished. Well, apart from a few line edits it's finished...

Kasper critiqued

My novella, novelette, whatever you wanna call it, 'Kasper Clark' has been critiqued no less than four times in its week online at critters.org. I usually get something in the region of 25 critiques, but clearly most folks -- and I'm the same -- see a wordcount over 15000, think Yikes! and move on to find something smaller. Still, I got some feedback and, I'm glad to say, it was overwhelmingly positive. And only three typos in all, which ain't bad going for 16k, although I have Jon Eyers to thank for that as he spotted several before I submitted the final draft to critters.org and the Butcher Shop Quartet. A few suggestions as to how I could change things, but nothing that struck me as pressing. I'm going to sit tight now and see what Boyd and Frank, the editors of BSQ think of it. It's their opinion I really want to hear right now.

Benefits

I spent nearly 3 hours today at the RNIB offices (Royal National Institute for the Blind), going over what concessions I'm eligible for and what benefits I should be claiming, now and when I am made redundant in two months. I came away with a thick wad of leaflets, a CD-ROM and a headache. Not to mention a heavy heart.

There are different grades of disability allowance depending on how my impairment affects my ability to walk unaided or cook myelf a meal or make a cuppa or choose my own clothes . . . and how much have I got in savings, how much did I earn last year, ad nauseum. Seems I should have been spening it rather than saving it for a rainy day. Oh man, I'm really starting to hate all this shit.

Heather's birthday

Balloons, presents, cake, jelly, ice cream and parties at Wacky Warehouse . . . It must be great being five; a birthday is like a slightly smaller version of Christmas. Waking your parents up at four in the morning to ask if you can open your presents. 'Yippee!' instead of 'Oh God, I'm forty!', which is what I'll be saying this year in a less than cheerful tone.

We sang 'Happy Birthday' to Heather, followed by a round 'For She's aJolly Good Fellow!'. Jill noticed Heather, who was joining in (and why not?), was actually singing 'Cheese and Cauli-good-flower!'

Jill has baked and decorated no less than three big cakes. One for the small party we had this morning for her side of the family. A second cake will go to Wacky Warehouse, where all Heather's friends will be bouncing around and being sick on the padded assault course, and the third cake is for the party we're having for my side of the family this evening. Jill likes baking. Just as well, really.

Ophthalmology Dept.

I had to go and have an eye check today, all part of the process to determine to a second bunch of people that I am indeed as visually-impaired as the first bunch of people said. The trouble was the first bunch failed to fill out or submit the paperwork properly and so I was pretty much standing on square one today.

But hey, we got there in the end. The wheels of bureaucracy (damn, that word is hard to spell) are now oiled and slowly turning. I have to see a guy on Tuesday who will advise me on what benefits I can claim between being made redundant and finding a new job, allowing me to get some qualifications under my belt. Must admit, I'm very impressed at the amount of assistance on tap for someone in my situation. And I'm not talking money handouts here, but people and organisations who I can call upon to give me a hand with every day difficulties. I'm probably too much of a curmudgeon to actually call on any of this help, but even my cynical heart was warmed to hear of their existence. Oh, and I'm getting two pairs of specs -- one for reading, the other for computer work -- and a free magnifying glass too. It's a pretty cool one. It doesn't just magnify writing, it boosts the contrast as well. I'm looking forward to getting that.

Decks cleared

Cousin Simon came round this afternoon, with his little lad Elliot and baby Abigail. She's 11 months old and, well, I got kinda broody. Jill didn't, which is probably just as well, I suppose. But she was lovely though. Blonde hair, blue eyes. Adorable.

Ahem, Well, the list I made here three days ago is pretty much squared away. 'Kasper Clark' has been emailed to the editors (thanks Jon and Chris, for your excellent help and advice). The course for html design is booked. The tax forms have been filled in and posted. I've had a (very)brief look at 'Light Knight Returns'. Not done a critique yet, for critters.org, but that can wait til tomorrow. I tried to enrol on a digital imaging course but the local colleges think April is too far away to make plans and told me to phone at the end of March! So, that's it. I'm off to do item eight.

Bill Who!

Walking through the factory this morning, I saw a familiar shape coming towards me. Or at least, vaguely familiar. Having just come from the darkness outside to a brightly lit factory I was experiencing that mistiness which affects me now. S'like walking in fog until my eyes adjust to the change in light, and that can take 10 minutes or more.
Anyway, a vague figure.
"Morning, Bill!" I said.
"Who?"
Blast, it's Paul, who I've worked with for over twenty years. How embarrassing.
"Did you think I was Bill the labourer or summat?"
Yes. Even though he's taller than you, has got darker hair and just looks nothing like you, I though you were Bill the labourer.
"Of course not." I said, thinking fast. "I meant Bill Gates."
As I was walking away, it occurred to me that this was a tad unlikely. I mean, Bill sodding Gates!
My eyes, it seems, aren't the only defective part of my anatomy.

Things to Make and Do

1. Finish 2nd draft of Kasper Clark (urgent)
2. Do some critiques to get my participation ratio up at critters.org
3. Carry on where I left off with Light Knight Returns, the story I was working on when Kasper Clark so rudely took over my life
4. Take a look at the pdf of Badass Horror before it goes to the publishers
5. Enrol on a local college course for Digital Imaging, while there are still places (urgent)
6. There are a load of forms from the Inland Revenue on the door mat. What do they want?
7. More forms, these from at-home learning centres. I'm signing up for three -- learning html, Dreamweaver and web-publishing
8. Pay more attention to wife and child
9. Go to work while they're still paying me
10. Nine is enough

And now for something completely different

http://www.albinoblacksheep.com/flash/has

Thanks to Chris for sending me this one. But beware, it's catchy.

Stripping Kasper

I'm going to bed unable to sleep, my brain refusing to switch off. It's this Reconstruction of Kasper Clark thing. Last night I lay awake 'til well after 1am, despite being awake since 4am the previous day. As soon as the light went out I was seeing a film in my head. Similar to the story I already have, but subtly different. Improved. So I was up at 6.30 this morning and stripping away much of the old story to allow me to lay down these new elements. I'm really pushing myself on this.

Other writing news: a story I sold last year, called No Dogs Allowed, is due to be published next month in an anthology called TWISTED CAT TALES. Edited by Esther Schrader, the cover design is by her husband Jack. Recognise it? If you don't, google 'Munch The Scream'.

Never a lollipop stick when you need one

The alarm clock woke me up this morning. I gets up, goes to the bathroom, then the kitchen to put the kettle on. I'm just on my way back to the bedroom to get dressed when I notice the time: 4.15am. One whole hour earlier than necessary. So I went back bed, and lay awake til 5.15 came around. Couldn't drop back off to sleep, could I. Bloody stoopid bloody alarm clock.

Then, walking to work, I felt my foot slip on something as big as a man's head. Followed by that horrible slippy-slidey feeling everytime I put my foot down. And I was wearing my walking boots. Y'know the type. They've got a real deep, zig-zag tread that just loves to grip things. Man, those soles are like bulldogs. They get their teeth into something and shit, they just don't wanna let go! And this turd was big as a man's head I'm telling ya. As big as a man's head!

Could I find a lollipop stick? Could I hell. What's with kids nowadays. In my day we used to eat ice lollies all year round, but these cosseted little buggers . . . Come Winter and you can drown in discarded crisp packets and Mars wrappers, and you'll go down without a single lolly stick to cling to.

Testing Heather

All day I've been running through different scenarios for my novella Kasper Clarke, testing them in my mind, examining them from different angles to see how they'd fit in. . . . Obsessing, basically.

So here's something lighter:

My four-year-old asked me to test her.

"Okay, count backwards from 20 to zero," I said.

This she did, effortlessly.

"What comes after Q in the alphabet?"

"R!"

"And what comes before L?"

This took a little thought, but she got there in the end. "K!"

"Very good. Um. Oh, I know, who is Luke Skywalker's dad?"

And this child, who I know has never seen a Star Wars film, said "Darth Vadar!"

On seeing my puzzled expression, she grinned and added, "Nice try, Dad."

Good news about Kasper

The novella I finished in December (having started it the previous December!) has been . . . longlisted, I think.

I had an email today from one of the editors of a forthcoming chapbook entitled 'Butcher Shop Quartet'. They like my story, The Reconstruction of Kasper Clark. Indeed, they like it enough to shortlist it, provided I am willing to address some issues they have. If it was a shorter story I'd roll my sleeves up and get stuck in. But this is a 13500 word story here, and they'd like a revised version by the 25th. That's two weeks. More than enough time to revise what is already there, but probably not enough time to dream up a couple more sequences and neatly segue them into the whole, which maybe what is required. I'm going to do my best. I'd dearly love to get into this book, and I'll kick myself if I get dropped for pure laziness.

More on Half-Life 2

If you're not into Half-Life 2 or FPS in general, you may as well skip this.

I tried that new Combine Destiny mod over the weekend but quickly gave up on it. Why, when the game is renowned for it's superb physics and textures, and you've presumably spent 100s of man-hours designing new layouts, would you want to go and cloak the whole thing in shades of deep black. That's what the modders of Combine Destiny did. I've deleted it. Got pissed off with staring at a black screen, looking for the occasionally dimly illuminated pixel. Atmospheric? Pft!

So I went to Fileplanet and Gamespot, and was rather pleased to discover dozens of maps for my favourite waste of time. Completed a few already. Last night it was the scary 'Nightmare House' map. with it's flickering lights and discarded children's toys (why are broken dolls so scary?). I was running down the drive, shotgun in my hands, surrounded by zombies. I weaved in and out of the lumbering fiends, blasted away two planks of the boarding barring a gateway and click! Out of ammo. In desperation I vaulted the remainder of the gate . . . Game complete! Phew. My hands were shaking.

Weekend digest

I've run out of chocolate! There was a mountain after Christmas -- presents from folks that know me well enough to know I'm not diabetic, but not well enough to know what sort of books or music I'd like. Or what size socks I wear, thank God. Can't believe I ate it all so quick. Thought I was stocked 'til at least March.

Any rood up (as we say in these parts when a change of topic is in order), my short story 'Sheep' is now online at www.dredtales.com. Click on the magazine cover and partake of the goodies inside. Dred is still something of a fledgling publication, (this is issue 2) but it looks the part, and there's a good variety on offer -- reviews and a 'strange-but-true' section. I for one would like to see it stick around. The editor has put up a Situations Vacant sign too, for those with ambitions as a reviewer or associate editor . . .

Redundancy

Today I got my redundancy notice. Or rather my statutory notice of redundancy with 12 weeks to serve, which means I won't have to empty my locker and say my farewells until March 31. And that is gonna feel odd, I'm sure, after 22 years. No point moping though. I've installed a Half-Life 2 mod called Combine Destiny in which I can play an alien combine sent to clear a town full of zombies and head crabs. If I want to imagine those shuffling creatures are directors and managers, then I will do. Okay? That is my right! Aargghh!! Boom bang-a-bang, boom, bang-a-bang!

Books I read last year

Okay, listing the books you read is a bit sad, but I do have a valid reason. Y'see, I buy books and put them up to read later. Only, I forget all about them unless I keep a list. At any given moment, this list consists of between 20 and 40 titles. When I read a book, I cross it off the list. And by this process I just happen to have a list of books read. See? Told you there was valid reason. I have even had a stab at grading them. Scores out of 5 stars. Favourite book of 2005? A toss up between 'TWOC' by Graham Joyce and 'Skin Tight' by Carl Hiassen.

Ben Elton ------ Popcorn (***)
Niall Mackenzie & Stuart Barker ------ The Autobiography (*** and a half)
Robert Twigger ------ The Extinction Club (*)
Terry Pratchett ------ Once More With Footnotes (*****)
Donald James ------ Once A Gentleman (*****)
Garry Kilworth ------ The Silver Claw (****)
Chris Twomey ------ The Stranglers: The Men They Love to Hate (**)
Michael Marshall ------ The Lonely Dead (** and a half)
Ben Elton ------ Blast from the Past (***)
Anthology ------ Cold Glass Pain (** and a half)
Robert Harris ------ Pompeii (***)
Anthology ------ Big Night Out (*)
Robert Rankin ------ Knees Up Mother Earth (****)
Antal Parody ------ Eats, Shites and Leaves (**)
Peter Stark ------ Last Breath (*** and a half)
Christopher Priest ------ The Dream Archipelago (*)
Roy Keane & Eamon Dunphy ------ Keane (*****)
Desmond Morris ------ The Nature of Happiness (**)
Mike Gayle ------ His ’n’ Hers (**)
Jasper Carrott ------- A Little Zit on the Side (* and a half)
Michael Kimball ------ Undone (***)
Donald James & Tony Barwick ------ The Hangman’s Crusade (*** and a half)
Carl Hiaasen ------ Basket Case (****)
Graham Joyce ------ TWOC (*****)
Ben Elton ------ High Society (**** and a half)
Sheila Hancock ------ The Two of Us (****)
Jim Butcher ------ Storm Front (***)
Carl Hiaasen ------ Lucky You (**** and a half)
Anthology ------ Teddy Bear Cannibal Massacre (**)
James Bibby ------ Shapestone (**)
Arthur C. Clarke ------ Earthlight (*)
William Golding ------ Lord of the Flies (Shite!)
Stuart Barker ------ Life of Evel (****)
Carl Hiaasen ------ Skin Tight (*****)
Michael de Larrabeiti ------ The Borribles (* and a half)
Michael de Larrabeiti ------ The Borribles Go for Broke (***)
Carl Hiaasen ------ Hoot (*****)
Patrick Redmond ------ The Wishing Game (***)
Terry Pratchett ------ Thud! (*****)
Donald James & Tony Barwick ------ The Kremlin Contract (*** and a half)
Sean Egan ------ The Verve: Star Sail (**)
David Hood ------ Fatal Climate (**)
Jasper Fforde ------ The Big Over Easy (*****)
Phil Rickman ------ The Chalice (****)

Resourceful

At work today I had an interview with a woman named Elaine from the Resource Centre. The raison d'etre of this organisation is a noble one: the pottery industy in Stoke-on-trent is dying (cue violins). So the Ceramic & Allied Trade Union went to the government to procure funding to retrain all these skilled pottery workers with no potteries to work in.

After explaining to Elaine about my deteriorating eyesight, and expressing my concerns over travel and learning and adapting to a new environment, she recommended I look at courses available over the Net. Namely summat called 'Learn Direct'. I did point out that as my eyesight will be completely buggered in a few years, any training could be seen as a waste. She told me that I should still retrain, if no other reason than to supply me a a hobby.

No matter what the costs, the Resource Centre will meet them. And if the RNIB (Royal National Institute for the Blind) can recommend any courses for me -- but need paying for -- then once again funds will be made available through the Resource Centre. And there's also expert advice on hand to help with CVs and interview techniques should I ever need them. Can't say fairer than that.

I'm thinking about learning html and maybe digital photography. Neither will result in a career, but hobby-wise, I may get a kick out of them.

Had a stroll around Longton Park this afternoon. The gates are literally at the end of our road, which is handy when one feels the need to commune with grey squirrels and dopey-looking pigeons. Our garden is occasionally visited by foxes, who probably think "Hey, this guy's gate is just at the end of our road . . ."
Heather kicked off cos she didn't want to go, and then once we were there, she kicked off cos she didn't want to come home. This is a four-year-old's prerogative. The pic is of said child strolling around the bandstand. Not that it was a bandstand in her imagination. I think it might have been a ship or a lighthouse or summat.

Fireworks

The tribe stayed until just after 12.00 last night, long enough to see in the New Year. We all had a good time eating, playing Trivial Pursuits, eating, introducing a sceptical big brother to Half-Life 2 and knocking his eyes out, eating . . . and then watching with dropped jaws the firework display on the London Eye. I'm usually unimpressed with such things, but this got me quite patriotic. Maybe we'll do a good job of the 2012 Olympics after all. I mean, it's the fireworks at the opening and closing ceremonies everybody talks about, isn't it? Not the actual sports. We might just carry it off yet.