An Extract from My Newest Writing Project

An extract of what I started in November. It's only a first draft but I'm slowly getting into writing again! Good times!

----------------

     Such arguments were common in the three months after Alexander’s capture. Striker was feeling lost and alone while Matt was nursing his damaged pride and resentment at having been cast aside by both Alexander and the Emissaries for the task of raising an army. Twist, as ever, was in the middle of them, acting more like Alexander than either one of them. Their mentor and role model, the one who should have been guiding them in all matters of the Flux for a long time to come, was gone; taken by the Flux Hunters at the same time as his sister, Julia.

     Dropping the photo to the floor, Striker stalked from the room, trying to suppress the emotions the arguments brought to the surface. Learning to read the echoes left in the Flux at times of intense emotional stress often pass unnoticed by Fluxlings. The more sensitive ones could feel some of the emotions from the echoes but during his journey, Striker learned to tune into those echoes and let them play out in his mind.

     It was tricky at first but once attuned it became be hard to block them out. That was one echo Striker did not want to relive.

     Back in the hall, another wave of the Flux passed through him. Instinctively, Striker turned to follow it and found himself staring at the front door. Hovering between him and the door was another wave of Flux forming into another humanoid shape. The purple outline showed it to be another echo of Striker and the wave of emotion flooded into him once more.

     An overwhelming sense of loneliness and sorrow identified it as the moment he left the safe house to begin his travels. There were no words here as the echo stood motionless before the door.

     It was the uncertainty of his decision to leave that was holding him back. Striker remembered this clearly. Time had shown him he wasn’t ready and the longer he stayed, the more frustrated he became. He had to stretch his wings and learn more about the Flux and what he could do with it. He desperately wanted Twist and Matt to go with him but Matt would call him a coward for running away. Twist wouldn’t, but the disappointment in her eyes would be there. Striker knew that for a fact.

     A creak from above spurred the echo into motion. It opened the door, which didn’t actually move in reality, stepped through and quietly closed it behind him.

    That should have been the end of it but the Flux was still invading his mind. The sense of loss grew and there was an edge of fear too. It was from his echo because Striker knew that he had instantly become preoccupied with where to go and how to get there.

     “Goodbye…”

     The word took him by surprise and he turned around again to follow the Flux to its source. Ignoring the kitchen, Striker turns to look up the stairs and sees the echo dissipate into the air again. It was a yellow outline. It was Twist. She was awake when he left. Was she waiting for him to ask her to join him? Or was she hoping he wouldn’t leave?

     The third question hit him even harder; did he even want to know the answer?

     As if on autopilot, Striker climbed the stairs to the first floor and stood on the landing with his eyes closed. He willed for another echo to manifest, or even replay the one he had just seen but the house remained still. Opening his eyes he could see all the doors on this level were closed bar the study and the bathroom. A part of him wanted to knock on Twist’s door, just in case she was still there but he picked up no trace of her Flux other than the echo.

     After a step towards the stairs to the second floor he stopped and turned to face the study. The door was slightly ajar but the dust on the floor told him the door hadn’t moved in months, maybe longer.

NaNoWriMo, F1 in Abu Dhabi and Disney Conquering Star Wars

It’s been a while since my last review. I have a few more planned before I get into the Dark Tower series, which will be an epic post, but there’s some things I’m still getting to grips with from that series. Between that, working Skyfall’s release, job hunting and NaNoWriMo, it’s a busy time right now!

NaNoWriMo

Well, it’s November and that means it’s another National Novel Writing Month. I’ve done this many times in the past but I’ve never been able to complete it. In 2010, I finally completed it and still had more to write. After a break last year because of my dissertation, I’m back on it this year – but trailing far behind already!

The goal is to write at least 50,000 words (either as a novel or part of one) in the 30 days of November. It’s quite a feat, even if it is only to be a first draft. It is completely up to you how far you want to get involved. I used to sign up every year but now I just do it on my own. It suits me better. There are a lot of events all over the place to meet other participants and have some fun while you’re at it.

This year, I’m writing the sequel to the project from two years ago. I will try to post some extracts throughout the month!

F1 – Raikkonen Returns to the Top Step

I am a big fan of Kimi Raikkonen in F1. One of the ‘coolest’ drivers and I say that because he is very cold at times. It’s just his nature, and Mika Hakkinen was much the same. Kimi was almost gifted the race by another failure from the McLaren team as Lewis Hamilton dropped out.

It made the race much more exciting. Sebastian Vettel produced a brilliant drive, and with a bit of luck with the safety car, made it onto the podium himself alongside the predictable Fernando Alonso.

One of the highlights was Kimi’s race messages. He doesn’t like a lot of information and it showed this time. Many would say he snapped at his race engineer but it was the focus of his driving. The message was clear both times – ‘leave me alone; I know what I’m doing!’ I’m paraphrasing but I’m sure the radio messages can be found on Youtube if you want a laugh!

 

The only thing that was disappointing was the language by both Raikkonen and Vettel. These are world class drivers and the heat of the moment does not quite excuse those slips. Slips happen but they are an example to younger viewers and it was a shame this happened. That said, there are two very exciting races to go and the fight between Vettel and Alonso is nowhere near over.

Star Wars and Disney; A fairy-tale in the making…

The news that Disney has bought Star Wars rocked me. I thought that the films were done and that Star Wars would live on through the Expanded Universe, of which I am a fan. So many authors on one story and the same characters – it gives you a brilliant insight into how each writer thinks and writes. I find that fascinating and the stories are pretty good too!

I am dubious about what Disney will do in these new films, with the first release slated for 2015. I have hope because of what they’ve done with the Marvel films but I see two main options for them to take.

The first is to take the story in their own direction and the second is to follow the Expanded Universe and tell the stories already written down, creative license allowing. The first, I feel, has more chance of alienating current fans even more than the Prequel films did, and the franchise will not find that easy to survive. The second option will see a form of continuity and, if done correctly, bring those fans wandering away back into the fold. I hope for the second option.

Stories have surfaced that Lucas had plans for twelve films in total. Bearing in mind that he has controlled the majority of the Expanded Universe since its creation, these later six would logically fall into a story arc within that creation. If Disney takes that route, it will appeal the widest range of fans possible. Or so I feel.

It’s an interesting situation, as is who will star in the new films. Only time will tell us but I remain hopeful.

A few branches to follow on...

It’s been a busy couple of weeks at work since The Dark Knight Rises was released. It has kept me very busy and been an exhausting time but the film itself is very good, but not quite as good as The Dark Knight, I believe. There are reasons for this but I will go into that at a later time, in a separate post.

New writing project

Well, I’ve finally decided to try and start some writing again. It wasn’t a total success but it did get me a little closer. I still haven’t found a way to inspire myself on anything I’ve been working on recently but I did go through some of the pieces I did for university and found a few things that I began to merge and expand on that I think could turn into a really nice little project.

It’s already standing out to me as something different to my favoured genres and styles. One of the pieces that I’ve selected was specifically written for a much younger audience and while that age group might change again, it doesn’t feel like a story an adult would read. This could all change, as I don’t write to a certain age or with an intended audience in mind. I write to tell a story, and as the story evolves and is put to paper, it will inevitably find its own audience. There will always be editing to be done to touch up on issues or loose ends and this project will be no different. I am quite excited and feel closer than ever to start writing again.

Birthday surprise!

My birthday is surrounded by my father’s and older sister’s birthday. IT’s an expensive time of the year for the family, having all three within twelve days. F1 is something we all enjoy but being at Silverstone has shown me I also enjoy the other races going on. My father is also a fan of the Touring Cars and as they are at Silverstone the weekend of his birthday, the three of us will be going down. I’ve never had the time to really get into it, but the small parts I have seen I’ve enjoyed and now I have a reason to make sure I get it sorted before October.

I really enjoy going to Silverstone – it’s a fantastic circuit and there’s always a great atmosphere no matter what the weather. I’ll walk around the circuit again, as I have done both times I’ve been before and I may even see if I can get some good pictures and put them up here. I’m always experimenting with things online. Photo’s in my blog, from a writer? This should be interesting!

Stephen King

Over the last few years, I’ve slowly been getting through Stephen King’s The Dark Tower series. I’ve just finished book five and have started book six, The Song of Susannah. They’re fantastically intricate reads and it can be confusing as to what is happening and where but they have kept me interested far better than any other books have recently. When I finish the last two, I think I will do a post looking at the series in its entirety. It will be interesting for me, if nothing else!

Stephen King is a fantastic writer, although I have found some of his stories can be repetitive. I suppose when you rule a genre like he does, this can be an easy trap to fall into. Each story is very well written and I hope I can branch out to other genres and stories to avoid this pitfall.

There are some other gems I have recently added to my book collection again thanks to a book voucher from MMU for receiving the Programme Leader’s Award. I spent £94 and still have £6 left, with another £10 card to spend, so a few more books are coming my way. I finally bought The Hunger Games books and the first A Song of Fire and Ice (or more commonly known as The Game of Thrones books). I have a lot of reading ahead of me!

Being a Writer...

Quite simply, being a writer SUCKS.

Why? Well, being a writer is not a stable career choice on it's own unless you become The next J. K. Rowling or Steven King. There are others who do it, but those are two examples of people who have made it work. Most people have to supplement their writing with another form of income, sometimes not even directly related to that field and that can only impact on the amount of writing they get to do, and influences deadlines and such.


With the introduction of E-books, piracy becomes an issue. I doubt it'll ever be as a big a problem as it is in the TV/Film and Music industries but it is there. Then again, E-books are usually pretty cheap pretty soon after release but I'm pretty sure that doesn't solve the problem entirely.

Writers are rarely goign to be famous icons for people to look up to. Discounting Shakespeare, what other writer do we learn about year in and year out through our education? I don't think any writer is included that much and then there's the whole conspiracy theories surrounding him and UGH. I hate Shakespeare anyway, but that's another story.


Despite this, being a writer can be really rewarding. I've met people who have read my work and it's had a substantial impact on them. It's surreal and I suppose it's quite like a musician hearing the same. It give syou the drive to go on but the task of writing a book, even one the length of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (set at just under 77K words) is a huge ask, taking an enormous amount of time. This may be the average book length but I've noticed more and more books being longer and longer, adding to the task.


I've found instructing writing workshops to be really fulfilling and valuable experiene for myself. With it being outside the mundane learning of our curriculum, students are actually interested in what you have to say. I don't think I could go into a school and teacher five days a week, I just don't have the interest in what they HAVE to know but to do that, yeah, I enjoy it a lot.

I've been writing for years. I have a novella being converted into a novel (at some point), another novel in its first draft and being reviewed by some varying readers and working on my university dissertation, which is part of another novel I want to write. Normally, I have a much bigger drive to write than what I have this time (and with such an idea and strict deadlines) I'm happy to devote myself but lethargy has taken over. January blues? Perhaps but I've never really noticed them hit me much until this year.


Writing a book is largely rewarding to the writer, more than anything. That sense of accomplishment is brilliant. I've heard so many people say "I can never write a book but I really want to try" or something along those lines and all I can say is to just do it. You never know until you try and failing is part of the course. Things have ot fall apart so we can find what works and what to take with us.
There are several things you need to write a book:

• Patience - it takes time and a lot of planning or you'll find yourself with characters and scenes not making any sense overall
• Research - Anything relating to your story or genre. I write in fantasy and sci-fi mainly, so I read a lot of books in those genres, watch a lot of films and play a lot of games in those genres. You pick up things without even realising it
• Determination - You'll hit walls. You'll have days where you're just not in the mood. That's fine, don't give up, just do something else and let your mind relax a bit. It's hugely taxing to write a book. Give a short story a go
• Originality - No one will give you the time of day if it's not original. The whole thing doesn't have to be original. A lot of stories are based on myths and/or concepts writers have come across themselves and want to explore or take in a new direction. That's great, but you need SOMETHING to set you apart from everyone else doing the exact same thing. The deeper that aspect, the more involved it is to your story, the better it will be to your reader
• Audience Awareness - Know who you're writing for before you write it. Sounds simple, right? Wrong. Research into the market of what people want to read and tie it in to what you can do. Writing a book that appeals to the majority of readers/everyone is something few writers can do. If someone does figure it out, let me know
• Experience - You can't write about something you don't know or that you haven't researched. I'm not saying if you're writing about drug use and abuse to go and do drugs. Quite the opposite, there are people out there who would be willing to talk to you about it, or plenty of things in books and articles (both online and in print) for you to learn about it. They have stories to tell just like you and that's a good common ground to start from

Redrafting is hell. It's also one of the most boring parts to writing but very important. I don't know about anyone else, but I hate reading a book with a typo, or where grammar is wrong. It annoys me as a reader, never mind as a writer. Find a friend to help you look for such mistakes.

Through all this, there is nothing else in the world I can imagine being, or doing. Writing is my passion and if being a writer really does suck, then I'm going to be in a sucky career for the rest of my life. I hope some of you decide to join me!


Phew! Hope this helps some of you and answers some questions you all seem to ask me :) Drop me a line if you have other questions or you want to discuss something further. For now, back to the grind!

It's old, but it's one of my favourites

The Honour of Dying is No Honour At All (2004)

   Blood ran down my face, gushing from the wounds I had suffered from the battle. I was tired, and my vision was hazy, but nothing would let me forget the sight of blood and mud as I looked at my torn uniform. My wounds were restricting my movements as I tried to walk away with my comrades, and every movement I made sent pain shooting through me trying to force me into submission.

   I did not succumb, I would not succumb.

   My companions were suffering just as much as I was, if not more. It was hard to look at them, to see the pain in their eyes, the fear, but the determination they still clung to gave me strength enough to continue forward in the slow walk to freedom. Taking one last look behind us, I started walking forward, but still could not escape the feeling of guilt for leading them into this hellish battle.

   Walking away from the battle, I felt as hollow as an empty tree, one without life, and without enough strength to beat off the ones who would destroy it. Sounds of the other soldiers still fighting, dying for their country rang through me. But my duty was to ensure the survival of my men, even if I died doing it.

   War cries pierced my heart.

   Explosions rattled my skull.

   Weapon fire made me look at my own weapon, being carried in one, blood covered arm. Grunting in disgust, I threw it down into the mud before my feet and walked over it. My men followed suit. All of these sounds and all of these sights were more deadly than any weapon that could be used against us.

   Our progress slowed every second. Fatigue was taking its toll on us, as was the pain from our injuries. Some fell, and were helped back to their feet. Even in the midst of all the bloodshed, I was proud to see my men helping each other.

   Not while I still draw breath will I leave anyone behind.

   I was out of breath, panting like a dog that had been running for all its life. What most people took for granted seemed like the hardest thing I, or any of my men, could do.

   A new thought dawned on me then. All it would take is for one man to see us and we would be gone, like the sands of time. Traitors or enemies, it did not really matter anymore. Either way, we were vulnerable.

   Fear of death kept us moving; determination to survive kept us from stopping. Will it be enough?

   Who knew what was out there?

   There was a small splash in the mud near me. Looking desperately around, I soon found the source…a gas canister, and it was already releasing the lethal, green cloud. “Watch out!” I cried, my voice was hoarse and every letter clawed its way out of my mouth painfully. “Watch out! Use your masks!”

   I pulled my gas mask on easily. Looking around however, I saw how quickly the gas was spreading. It became clear how fortunate I was when the effects of the gas started to show on my soldiers. One man, the only one I could see in the smog, was coughing violently, as were others somewhere else in the green mist. His arm was severely injured, which was stopping him from putting his mask on. More coughs came, and now blood from his mouth.

   He dropped his mask.

   More gas was inhaled into his body as he struggled to breathe properly, and the only result was more desperate coughs and wheezes. His agonising screams came through the coughs like gunshots, tearing through my heart. It would only get worse for him.

   Two other men came from the smog and picked him up by the arms, and started to walk, carrying his weight between them.

   In my heart, I knew it was too late for him, but there was still the promise to them that they would get out, and I would do my best to keep it, for every soldier under my command.

   I continued to walk, but his torturous screams still tore at my heart.

   The green smog only intensified as we walked, and I began to worry about whether we were being followed. It was incredibly hard to see beyond the end of my mask, but still I walked forward, awkwardly and cautiously so as not to fall. More cries rang in the smoke, and I turned to find the source, but the cloud had completely hidden whoever it was from view. A few moments later, a lone figure stumbled out of the smog.

   He tripped and fell onto me, grasping with a strength he should not have had. Gunfire sounded closer than ever, and the two men who had been supporting him hit the ground with a thud – both dead.

   I turned back to the man holding me. Blood ran from his mouth, his nose, his ears and even his eyes, and it made me sick to my stomach, but I stared at him, straight into what remained of his blood streaked eyes. I wanted to convey confidence to him, that he would be all right, but the fear was always there.

   The fear is always there.

   Imagine yourself in my shoes. How would you react to this sight or the imminent death of your comrade in arms? His constant coughs adding more blood to your already tattered and blood soaked garments as you finally pull him out of the gas, the mud absorbing your feet, trying to stop you from reaching safety. Can you feel the tension in the air as the dying man is thrown violently into a horse-drawn cart? How would you feel?

   A trail of blood from the dying man’s mouth ran onto the cart which then dripped into the soggy mod underneath. It was showing our path clearly but no one cared anymore. All of my men, and I myself, had lost the will to live and none of us expected to – but I intended for them to live, at least.

   The man was writhing in pain, and there was nothing that could be done. The rest of us followed the cart silently, solemnly remembering the dead on both sides of this war. Fear for his life increases with every step I take, with every beat of my heart, yet aside from all the wishing in the world, nothing could be done to save him.

   Nothing…

   Have you ever felt it? The helplessness of watching someone suffer in a hellish way before the end of their life cannot be described in mere words, but only as a series of feelings that are so extreme, they could traumatise you.

   To die for your country could be counted as honourable, but place yourself in that dying man’s shoes. Had you experienced what he had, gone through what he had, would you still be willing and honoured to die for your country?

   The honour of dying is no honour at all.