FFB - The Siege of Krishnapur

Of Irish descent, the author, J G Farrell (James Gordon) Farrell was born in Liverpool in. His career ended abruptly in 1979, when he drowned in Ireland at the age of 44, swept to his death in a storm. He is primarily known for a series of novels labelled the Empire Trilogy (Troubles, The Siege of Krishnapur and The Singapore Grip), which deal with the political and human consequences of British colonial rule.

Krishnapur is a fictional town; the book is based on events at Lucknow and Cawnpore. It’s 1857, the time of the Indian Mutiny and sepoys lay siege to the British governed town of Krishnapur. Mr Hopkins, the Collector and Tom Willoughby, the Magistrate, are the senior figures among the panoply of other intriguing characters who undergo three months of privation and threat.

Farrell employs the omniscient point of view, much in the manner of Victorian narrative, where the author intrudes on occasion; this, and the abrupt switching of character point of view in mid-scene, I found to be the least liked aspects of the book. Its attractions are many, however. The characters grow and change during the siege and gain our sympathy. Despite the external enemy taking its bloody toll, there’s plenty of conflict within the fortification, for example between the two doctors, the two clergymen and the Collector and the Magistrate.

Lives are transformed in this crucible of warfare, not least the newly arrived poetry loving George Fleury, who seems totally inadequate to the task, quite content to daydream rather than seriously soldier, yet when he’s blooded in battle he discovers his true self. The womenfolk appear slight and of no consequence to begin with, but as time and lack of adequate rations strip away the veneer of ‘polite behaviour’, they show their mettle in a variety of ways. The scene with the invasion of tiny black cockchafers will linger in my memory for quite some time: horrendous, sensual and hilarious in turns!

Throughout, Farrell provides superb imagery and assaults the senses. The mixture of bravery and pathos, tinged with irony and black humour, works well. The final sepoy attack is highly dramatic, graphic and laced with lashings of ironic humour – the roses ‘pruned this year by musket fire’.

This novel won the Booker Prize in 1973.

Book Choice!

The weekly magazine TV Choice is printed here in Spain. Besides the multifarious TV channels, it features articles and puzzles, a book review and a short story.

The latest edition, #214 (23-29 August) promotes my crime novel Sudden Vengeance and also mentions two other books, Blind Justice at Wedlock and Blood of the Dragon Trees. (The choice of the western was a surprise, I’d have thought they’d have selected Spanish Eye, since that’s set in Spain as well, but I’m not complaining!)

The editor kindly printed my prize-winning story ‘Nourish a Blind Life’, too.

To read either of these images, please click on them. (If you can't read the story here, you can read it on an earlier blog - here

 

 

 

The title 'Nourish a blind life' is taken from a poem:

For what are men better than sheep or goats
That nourish a blind life within the brain
If, knowing God, they lift not hand of prayer
Both for themselves and those who call them friend?

- The Passing of Arthur, Tennyson

The story evolved in a day after I’d read about a man stricken blind as a child and abandoned by family and the system, yet he was saved by a kindly carer. This is my attempt to put myself in his shoes. 

"I read a lot and like to think that I’m fairly hardened to the human experience. Your story, Nourish a blind life, however, moved me enormously. With a powerful understanding you avoided any mawkish melodrama. The ending, although sad, gave satisfaction knowing the narrator was soon to be free! Thank you." – Eve Blizzard, dramatist and author
  

Writing – research – Toxicology-01

No self-respecting crime writer would be without their guide to poisons – the so-called coward’s weapon.

The ancient Greeks called the herb monkshood or wolfsbane “stepmother’s poison”. The citizens of Imperial Rome were forbidden to grow it in their gardens. Yet poison usage was so common that the rich employed food tasters.

There are many known natural poisons, mostly of plant origin. Their attraction – besides their efficacy – was that they were undetectable in a dead body.

More recently the mineral arsenious oxide – arsenic – became readily available for poisoning rats and other vermin. It was the most common substance employed for murder, its faintly sweet taste not noticeable in food; the lethal effects were attributed to acute gastric disease.

In 1836 a simple and definite test for the presence of arsenic in a dead body finally became available, but to get to that point took several chemists several decades. In 1775 the Swedish chemist Carl Wilhelm Scheele discovered that when arsenious oxide was treated with nitric acid and zinc  granules, it became a poisonous gas (subsequently named arsine). Later, German chemist Johann Metzger showed that if arsenious oxide were heated with charcoal a mirror-like deposit would condense on a cold plate held over it; the element arsenic. In 1810 in Berlin Dr Valentine Rose extracted the stomach contents of a suspected victim of poisoning, dried the liquid to a white powder, and heated it with charcoal to obtain the characteristic mirror; thus the Metzger test proved sufficient evidence against a domestic servant who had poisoned several of her employers.

Then in 1832 an elderly English farmer, George Bodle, was alleged to have been poisoned by his grandson John. James Marsh, a former assistant to the eminent scientist Michael Faraday, was asked to demonstrate at the trial that Bodle’s coffee had contained arsenic. He did so, but the jury were not convinced so found the grandson not guilty. Frustrated, Marsh went back to Scheele’s initial discovery and developed the Marsh test – treating the suspect matter with sulfuric acid and zinc, he passed the arsine that was evolved through a narrow glass tube, which was heated over a short distance. The arsenic mirror formed further along the tube; any undecomposed gas was burned at the end of the tube and formed a second mirror on a porcelain plate. As little as 0.02 milligrams of arsenic could be detected in this manner, and in 1836 Marsh was awarded the Gold Medal of the Society of Arts for his technique.

 
The first forensic use of the Marsh test was made by Mathieu Orfila (1787-1853), a Spaniard. In later years, he wrote, ‘The central fact that struck me, that had never been perceived by anyone else … was that toxicology does not yet exist.’

Mateu Josep Bonaventura Orfila - Wikipedia commons

 
He published his first Treatise of General Toxicology in 1813. In 1819 he was appointed professor of medical jurisprudence at Paris University.
 
In 1840 Marie Lafarge, a 22-year-old was accused of murdering her husband. Prosecution declared that arsenic was found in the food, but not in the organs of the body. Orfila used the Marsh test and proved conclusively that the previous tests were botched. Furthermore, he stated; ‘I shall prove, first, that there is arsenic in the body of Lafarge, second that this arsenic comes neither from the reagents with which we worked nor from the earth surrounding the coffin, also that the arsenic we found is not the arsenic component that is naturally found in every human body.’ He did and Marie Lafarge was found guilty and sentenced to prison with hard labour.
 
More to follow in due course.

 

Faceless rule-makers

Yesterday’s post about Facebook’s abysmal security algorithm prompts thoughts about the power of faceless rule-makers and how they deploy that power.  Lest we forget, computer applications are designed by humans, who are as prone as the next person to commit errors.

Whether it’s a computer, an in-car system or a game on a tablet, it cannot have been tested in every conceivable scenario. I recall some years back seeing the standard message on computers, along these lines – ‘You have committed an illegal action.’ Which definitely alarmed law-abiding new users, who worried about what they’d done… This is typical of some programmers – too lazy to program and test for all eventualities, they let the conditional options drop through a number of possible messages and then throw in a catch-all – ‘illegal alert!’ – to capture any other unforeseen route a user might go down.

It’s the English language being misused: illegal in my dictionary says it’s something that’s contrary to or for bidden by law. The last time I looked, computer programmers didn’t make law – they make rules. The same goes for android and robots used with regard to tablets and apps. Android is an automaton resembling a human being; robot was invented by Karel Capek in his story ‘R.U.R – Rossum’s Universal Robots’ and derives from the Polish, Ukrainian robota, forced labour, and Russian, robota, work. Early twentieth century definition now accepts that it can be a machine that carries out a variety of tasks automatically or with a minimum of external impulse (such as factory robots); that’s still a big leap from software applications.

Are the individuals who label these applications so devoid of imagination that they must steal an existing term for their jargon? Ask any sci-fi writer and he or she would probably come up with something appropriate. I realise that it’s academic my discussing this, when you consider that for the Windows operating system you have to click on ‘Start’ to log off (which was removed, sensibly, but the clamour from old users has demanded its return, a yearning for the familiar).

I digress. Consider two new ideas being bandied about of late – driverless cars and driverless lorry convoys!

We’re slowly blindly going down that path that was trodden decades before the Terminator movies were thought of, be assured.

If users become dependent on all these applications, then when they go wrong, as they do and will continue to do so, the resultant responses will be anger without management, frustration, and a tendency to rebel – whether as a hacker, a troll or in a more personal manner. It’s the stuff of science fiction. Harlan Ellison’s ‘ “Repent, Harlequin!” said the Ticktockman’ was about nonconformity being a felony, as well as being a moral tale. Sci-fi authors extrapolate current trends to see where it might lead. Jim England’s story ‘The Globe’ (published in Auguries #6, 1987 is about, among other things, litter louts being zapped by a surveillance stun-gun. And the late Bob Jenkins published a short story ‘No Fire Without Smoke’ (published in Adlib, 1985, reprinted Portsmouth Post, 2007) that casts cigarette smokers as public enemies, liable to be incarcerated or even shot…

'The Globe', 1987

 

The point – faceless rule-makers, if allowed, can take us down a road of unintended and even unperceived consequences.

Back to normal tomorrow…

 

FB – Face Bully?

In the scheme of things, it’s no big deal. I can live without Face Book. I mean, there are children being slaughtered throughout the world, notably in Ukraine, Gaza, Iraq and Libya. Why does the world’s media call the latest incarnation of deranged misfits, IS, the Islamic State? Because that’s what they call themselves? They’re not the true face of Islam. They should be labelled for what they are – Insane Scum, Insane Savages or something more truthful.

Still, I digress.

A couple of days ago, I posted an FB message to a friend on his birthday, and also sent an image of tapas – since he has lived in Spain, and would get the virtual party reference.

Tapas - Wikipedia commons

 

I immediately followed up this with another image, this time of glasses of Spanish wine, for his virtual party. (I wasn’t able to include more than one image per message). And to cap it off, I sent an image of some bottles of cava – Spanish equivalent of Champagne at a fraction of the price…

Cava - and glasses of wine - Wikipedia commons

 

And immediately I received a FB message telling me a security check was required to ensure I was who I was. Great, I thought. I only had one of those last week, and answered the question and received a clearance code on my mobile phone, no problem. So, here we go again. I duly read the capture code or whatever they call it – say, KsFgLi – and input this – and immediately I was informed that I’d failed the security check and would be temporarily blocked for 30 days. This means that I can post to my FB timeline, and share other posts on my timeline; I cannot send PMs and I cannot comment on my own posts or anyone else’s anywhere on FB. No court of appeal, no best of three attempts at the code. As far as they’re concerned, I’ve fallen foul of their rules. Yeah, right.

In retrospect, it’s obvious to me that I mis-read the code, which isn’t surprising since often they are quite indecipherable; the point is, I didn’t feel unsure about the code, so I input what I thought I read.

Why am I bothering to write this? I’ll just have to wait out the 30 days, surely. Yes, I suppose I will. I was going to attend some FB friends’ virtual book launches, but that’s not possible now. There were other FB contacts about blogs etc I was involved in, regarding sharing information etc; I’ll find a way round that, eventually.

What bugs me is the Draconian approach to the blockage. FB in bullying mode.

Clearly, the algorithm system is programmed to identify any posts that originate from one source and consecutively aim at another source; the limit is probably three; it may be as little as two but I type fast…! It may be linked to images rather than simple text posts. The automatic response is a security check process. In effect, it’s a robot checking to ensure that I’m not a robot.

 
I take issue with the imposition of the blockage after I failed only once at the security check hurdle. Banks’ ATMs allow at least three attempts at getting the PIN code right.

I take issue with the imposition of 30 days’ blockage. Why 30 days? A nice round number. What does that achieve, exactly? If I had been a spammer, then I’d have learned my lesson after a month, is that it? I’d have thought spammers would have multiple accounts anyway. Does 30 days allow me to go to Specsavers so I can get my eyes tested and then better decipher their awful codes? There’s no reason why it should be 30 days instead of 24 hours; in effect this ‘grounding’ is tantamount to treating users as recalcitrant children.

 
We’ve all been there. Authorities impose constraints or new laws because of the irresponsible or even criminal few so that the majority suffer – whether that’s speed-bumps, traffic calming, the confiscating of nail clippers at airports, or a 30-day temporary blockage on FB. It isn’t rational, but they’re the rules we’ve made. Yeah, right. No, at best, it’s lazy programming, at worst, it’s bullying.

So, dear FB friends, if you don’t see my half-witticism comments on your pages for a while, that’s why. (You may even breathe a sigh of relief!)

Tomorrow, I'll look at some fiction that extrapolates on the 'punishment' meted out to rule-breakers...

[Later (26 August): while temp blocked you usually can't see a comment or like so you can't click on them. However, yesterday, on one post there was a like offered so I clicked on it. A message came up, saying I was blocked as I 'might' have violated the rules... but I could contact via help, which I did, and stated my case succinctly, and today I received a response to the effect that I am now unblocked, back to normal.]

Writing – genre fiction - study the market

[The following is aimed at beginner novel writers and those who fancy switching genre.]

If you’re aiming on going the traditional publishing route, then, whether you like it or not, your writing is aimed at a market – not the genre readership, but the publisher or acquisitions editor. Obviously, if you’re thinking of self-publishing, your market is the reader. Even so, if you go that route, you still need to do market research, for you must aim to give the readers what they want – yes, with your particular slant, of course.

There are several companies who publish genre fiction, but not as many as there used to be. There are fewer publishing houses thanks to mergers, amalgamations and takeovers. The traditional genre fiction market has shrunk. So, you don’t have that much choice.

Well, that’s not strictly true. Publishing is in a transition stage. New independent publishers are cropping up regularly – some are e-book only, others publish e-book and print on demand (POD) books. The chances of a new author finding a publisher are better than ever, providing the author does his or her homework.

In the old days, if you failed at the first hurdle (publisher), there were quite a few others available to send your rejected ms on to. Now, you have to hone that ms almost to the requirements of a particular publisher. If it fails there, you may have to consider rewriting for another publisher before sending out the book again. Whatever you do, if it fails, don’t ditch it; try all avenues and if it fails, sit on it until a later date, when either the market might be more receptive or you’re able to review the book with fresh critical eyes. Another alternative is to self-publish, but you still need to address the editing (which is normally done by the publisher).

A good writer can get published in almost any field. They’ve studied their craft of storytelling and know the requirements implicit in each particular form.

Less accomplished writers might contemplate trying, say, a western, as it seems ‘easier than a contemporary detective novel.’ That approach is unlikely to work. To write a western, you need to have a strong affection for the genre. You don’t have to be a fan, but you should respect its roots. If you don’t, then it will show in the prose and storyline – and it will get rejected pronto. And that applies to sci-fi, fantasy, crime and romance too. Those Mills & Boon books are not as easy to write as it might seem, either

First priority, then, is to identify a publisher who is currently publishing your chosen genre. Select a handful of books in that genre from that publisher – ideally, not reprints of older works, but new fiction. The selection can be from your local library or from an online book outlet, such as Amazon or the book depository (the latter mails books post-free anywhere in the world). And, to provide variety and broaden your scope, select a number of authors rather than one.
 
Once you have those three or four books in front of you, approach the reading in a businesslike manner. Analyse each book as you read it. Make many notes. This is not to slavishly copy but to get a feel for the structure, vocabulary, pace, number of characters in the book.

For example, what is the author’s approach to the readers? Do the books from this publisher possess an ethos? There are Christian publishers around, for instance, which is a good market if it suits you. Is the message open and obvious or subtle?

Even though it’s fiction, what kind of topics and facts are used in the book? And to what depth are they treated?

Are there any subjects that appear to be taboo?

What kind of title does the publisher/author favour? A word, a phrase, a sentence? A question, a statement, an exclamation? A play on words or simply serious? How many words are usually in the title? Chapter titles can be helpful clues, too.

The following questions to pose don’t have to be applied to the whole book, that would be tedious, but study several pages to get a feel for the style, presentation and variety in the prose. For example: How many lines of dialogue per page? What age and status are the characters? How many paragraphs to each chapter? What is the usual number of words in the paragraphs? Are the sentences all a similar length or do they vary? What marks of punctuation are used? What kind of vocabulary is used? Simple, or moderately educated or really literary?
 
Study the first paragraph. How does it appeal to the reader? Is there any special emphasis on topicality, conflict or emotion? Remember, it is the first five words that attract the casual reader’s eye; so these should be especially striking. Try to avoid opening with ‘A’, ‘The’, ‘It’ or ‘There’.

In the final paragraph, how is the book wound up? Is it satisfactory? Mickey Spillane said, ‘The beginning sells this book, the ending sells the next book.’

Some book blurbs use quotations from the novel as teasers. Study these snippets – they’re like sound bites, there to suck in the browsing reader. Does your work contain similar phrases or sentences that could be gainfully used to ‘sell’ your story? (I know, you haven’t written the book yet – but consider identifying appropriate sound bites as your writing approaches the end of the book).

How many chapters does each book contain? Picked at random, four books I’m now looking at have, respectively, 15, 10, 16 and 20 chapters. Many beginning writers worry about the number of chapters, but there’s no need. A chapter break can be made almost anywhere – to signify the passing of time, to leave the reader wanting more after a cliff-hanger situation, to foreshadow worse to come. In fact, deciding on chapter breaks can wait until the self-edit stage.

Genre fiction is invariably about action – but not exclusively so. One of these four novels has a fight (fist or gun) in seven of the fifteen chapters. Another has seven fights in twenty-one chapters.

So, study the pacing and the relevant vocabulary…
 
- extracted and adapted from Write a Western in 30 Days.

 

E-book from Amazon com bought from here

E-book from Amazon co uk bought from here

or paperback post-free world-wide from here

 

Saturday Story - 'Creation Myth'

CREATION MYTH

  

Nik Morton

 

Sydney harbour, 1870 - Wikipedia commons

Sydney, Australia, 1840

Twirling her parasol, Harriet Brady crossed the dusty street, trying not to look over to her left where the town came to an end. Her face reddened but it had nothing to do with the scorching sun. Against her will, she remembered the first time that she had glanced in that direction, at the ramshackle dwellings. Why couldn’t Mama send one of the shop staff to Mrs Haltwhistle’s to pick up the embroidery, for heaven’s sake! Every Thursday, Harriet had to walk the length of Sydney on this particular errand. Of course, Mama had no reason to alter the routine since Harriet would rather die than explain her confused emotions. Yet she had to admit to feeling quite the lady strolling down the street. It was just this particular end of town that sent uncontrollable shivers through her delicate frame.

            Mrs Haltwhistle ran a busy sweatshop, turning out embroidered table-cloths, handkerchiefs and antimacassars which Mama sold at a tidy profit from her shop, though of course she didn’t call it that, she preferred the much grander name of emporium – Brady’s Emporium. ‘One day, my dear,’ she told Harriet often, ‘I will have a string of emporia all over Australia!’

            Standing in the shade of the balcony above, Harriet furled her parasol and tugged on the bell-pull to the right of the front door, next to the wooden plaque engraved with MRS EMILY HALTWHISTLE, SEAMSTRESS.

            A metal bell clanged inside and in a moment Daisy the maid, wearing a dark grey shift, answered the door.

Daisy curtseyed and said, ‘Mrs Haltwhistle is expecting you, Miss Brady.’ Every week, that was all that she ever said.

            At each visit Harriet deliberately had to drag her eyes away from Daisy’s pockmarked cheeks and her lazy left eye. Poor mite, she thought, and followed Daisy along the cool dark passage, her shoes clattering on the wooden boards; Daisy made no sound, as she was bare-foot.

            The building was two-storey, with a balcony running all round the second floor and this was where Mrs Haltwhistle welcomed Harriet. The small wicker table was set for two, the porcelain plates and cups glinting in the shade of the overhanging roof. A plate of sponge cakes was in the middle, beside a silver teapot.

Those cakes were scrumptious but after tasting one at their first meeting, Harriet had refrained at each subsequent visit because she felt sure her bodice had become far too tight as a result. Indeed, she feared that her clothes must shrink in the wash. It was just too awful. Mama couldn’t afford to buy new garments as she sank all her earnings into more merchandise.

            Mrs Haltwhistle was a stout woman, fashionably wearing a voluminous dress, jacket bodice and leg-of-mutton sleeves, and quite filled the wicker armchair. ‘So nice to see you again, my dear,’ she said, gesturing at the empty chair beside her. Washed-out blue eyes hid behind spectacles. ‘Please sit down and partake of tea with me, why don’t you?’ Her odd phrasing never changed, either.

            This was so tedious, Harriet thought. ‘Thank you.’ She smiled. ‘You are too kind.’

            The chair creaked as Mrs Haltwhistle leaned forward to help herself to another sponge cake. ‘You look the picture of health,’ she said, which was a surprising departure for her.

            ‘I do?’ Harriet daintily lowered her cup. ‘I must admit that I feel just fine.’

            Fingering her spectacles, Mrs Haltwhistle persisted, ‘The heat isn’t bothering you, then?’

            ‘No, of course not, Mrs Haltwhistle.’ Harriet smiled. ‘After all, I am quite acclimated. I have been here four years.’

            Nodding, Mrs Haltwhistle glanced over the balcony baluster. ‘So you have.’

            Despite herself, Harriet followed her hostess’s gaze.

            Sprawling on the edge of town stood thirty or so dwellings made from discarded wood and brick. On a really hot day, if the wind was in the wrong direction, the open sewerage sent a noisome stink into the town. Amidst this squalor sat and lazed around black women and men. A few men were stumbling around, hands clutching rum bottles to their chests. Many of the women shamelessly bared their breasts or brazenly suckled their infants. All of them here tended to wear hand-me-down English clothes that didn’t suit them.

According to Johnny-can-do, their brethren in the outback only wore pigments of paint or scar-tissue and no clothing, information which sent Harriet’s pulse fluttering.

            They were not the popular image of a noble savage, Harriet had thought on first encountering an aborigine when she landed here with her mother in 1826. Yet, she had since revised her opinion and indeed she considered that many of them were handsome, some ruggedly so. Several, she found, were more intelligent than the convict settlers who frequented Mama’s shop. That was where she had first met Johnny-can-do.

            Harriet’s heart trembled now and unwelcome shame washed over her. She felt faint. She almost toppled her teacup as she awkwardly set it down in the saucer. She lifted a hand to her forehead. ‘I am so sorry,’ she whispered, ‘perhaps the heat is affecting me, after all.’

            Mrs Haltwhistle’s small eyes peered over her pince-nez. ‘It isn’t the heat, my dear...’

*

‘A long way back in time,’ Johnny-can-do had said some weeks ago, ‘all the spirits of the earth except one were asleep. The great Father of All Spirits was awake. You always have someone to keep an eye out, don’t you?’ He smiled, exhibiting big white teeth. He was proud of his mastery of English, learned painstakingly in Miss Bellow’s school.

            Harriet was enraptured by this strange creature who resembled a young man yet was something else entirely, something quite magical. She wasn’t in the least embarrassed by his bare chest which glistened with sweat. Now, after four years here, she wasn’t even bothered by seeing half-naked aborigine women. Indeed, it seemed quite natural.

            They were sitting cross-legged near the little creek that ran past the town and into the harbour. Mama was busy, as usual, in her emporium.

            ‘What did the Father of All Spirits do?’ Harriet asked.

            ‘He gently woke the Sun Mother and as she opened her eyes a warm ray of light spread out over the sleeping earth. The Father told her he had work for her. She was to go down to the Earth and wake up the sleeping spirits and give them solid form.’

            Harriet had always loved fairy tales and this sounded like one too. ‘He seems to be a typical man, bossing the woman around,’ she observed.

            ‘That is the natural way of things, Harriet,’ Johnny said.

            ‘I wouldn’t let you order me about,’ she vowed.

            ‘What, not just a little bit?’ he wheedled playfully.

            ‘Well, perhaps just a little, if I liked it.’ She leaned back, her elbows supporting her on the grass. A thought struck her. ‘There aren’t any snakes here, are there?’

            Johnny shrugged and wrinkled his flat nose. ‘Could be. I caught one here last week.’

            Harriet sidled closer to him. ‘You caught a snake?’

            ‘My family, it has to eat.’

            Harriet pulled a face but didn’t move away. He seemed fearless and brave. She shook her head, golden tresses flying free over her shoulders, and dismissed her fanciful thoughts. ‘You were talking about the Sun Mother. She was sent down to the Earth.’

            ‘Before I was interrupted,’ he added.

            She pulled a face at him then settled down to listen, determined not to ask any more questions as she didn’t want to break the thread Johnny was spinning.

            Johnny gestured with both hands, as if encompassing the sky and their surroundings. ‘The Sun Mother glided down and wherever she walked plants grew in her wake and after all her travels she rested in a field, pleased with herself. But there was no rest for her, it seems, as the Father told her to go into the caves and wake the spirits there. She did as he bid and insects fled from the caves to populate the earth, many mingling with her flowers in the field. She told all her creatures to enjoy the wealth of the earth and to live peacefully with one another. Satisfied, she rose into the sky and became the sun.

            ‘When the Sun Mother departed in the west, the living creatures were afraid, fearing that the end of time had come, but eventually she appeared from the east and they got used to the regularity of her coming and going. The creatures lived together peacefully until, sadly, envy crept into their hearts and they began to argue.

            ‘Distressed, the Sun Mother came down again to make the peace. Then she gave each creature the power to change their form to whatever they liked. This was not a good decision; she was not pleased. Rats changed into bats and there were giant lizards and fish with blue tongues and feet. And hares that carried their young in pouches and hopped great distances - you call them kangaroo.) The oddest creature had the bill of a duck, teeth for chewing and a tail like a beaver’s.’

‘That’s the platypus!’ she exclaimed, unable to resist interrupting.

‘Yes, it is.’

‘Sorry, go on...’

‘I will,’ he said mock-sternly. ‘The Sun Mother decided she must create new creatures and gave birth to two children, the Morning Star and the Moon, who gave birth in turn to two children who were sent to Earth.

            ‘They became our ancestors,’ Johnny said, smiling. ‘The Sun Mother made us superior to the animals because we have a part of her mind and will never want to change our shape.’

*

Changing shape - that was the problem, Harriet now knew as she left Mrs Haltwhistle’s in a daze. Under her arm was a brown paper bundle of embroidered material.

My shape is changing, she told herself again.

Mrs Haltwhistle had tried to be delicate about it.

While Johnny-can-do talked of his people’s creation myths, they had lain together and procreation had occurred.

As she felt her tight waistline she knew it was no myth.

            I am ruined, she thought, and carried the parcel down into the shantytown where Johnny-can-do lived.

This must be her life now because she would not consider Mrs Haltwhistle’s option: ‘I know someone who can get rid of the little blighter for you.’

            God help me, Harriet thought, but my child will not live in this godforsaken shanty town! But it will live.

Her heart tumbled as she saw Johnny-can-do. He had seen her too and he waved, his face lighting up with a huge grin.

            Harriet walked up to him and grabbed his hand. ‘Come with me, Johnny,’ she urged. ‘We’re leaving. Going inland. I’m setting up my own shop and we will live as man and wife.’

 

***

Previously published in The New Coastal Press, 2010.

 Copyright Nik Morton, 2014.

Note: The original didn’t begin with the place and date explained, as that becomes evident in the story’s telling, but I thought it was appropriate here!

If you liked this story, you might like my collection of crime tales, Spanish Eye, published by Crooked Cat, which features 22 cases from Leon Cazador, private eye, ‘in his own words’.  He is also featured in the story ‘Processionary Penitents’ in the Crooked Cat Collection of twenty tales, Crooked Cats’ Tales.

 

Spanish Eye, released by Crooked Cat Publishing is available as a paperback and as an e-book.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Spanish-Eye-Nik-Morton/dp/1909841315/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1399383023&sr=1-4

http://www.amazon.com/Spanish-Eye-Nik-Morton/dp/1909841315/ref=tmm_pap_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1399382967&sr=1-5

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Spanish-Eye-Nik-Morton-ebook/dp/B00GXK5C6S/ref=sr_1_4?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1399383023&sr=1-4&keywords=nik+morton

http://www.amazon.com/Spanish-Eye-Nik-Morton-ebook/dp/B00GXK5C6S/ref=sr_1_5?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1399382967&sr=1-5&keywords=nik+morton

 

FFB - The Secret

The Secret was originally accepted for publication by Libros International late 2009 and I was allocated as the editor. Sadly, the publisher closed down and the book didn’t get published. The author Jan Warburton persevered and the book finally saw print in 2011.

Fran is the cousin of James. She’s had a crush on him for years. But he’s been besotted with Fran’s friend, Ellie – until they broke up and he went gallivanting off abroad. But now James was back – and Fran felt the old attraction.

Unfortunately, the spectre of Ellie persisted. All James wanted to know about involved Ellie and her mysterious reasons for shunning him.

This relationship drama is complicated by a gruesome murder and circumstances that conspire against them. What is the secret, though? Is it the sexy elderly man who shares a villa with Fran on the Costa Blanca? Or is it something in James’ past? Or has it something to do with Ellie’s sudden disappearance? Is it the murderer? The pages have to be turned – right to the end – to find out

James, Fran and Ellie are the proverbial eternal triangle, tossed about in the storms of the modern world, where nothing seems simple and where hearts can be broken and not easily mended.

Fran is a believable heroine, vulnerable yet determined, while James is a man who really doesn’t know what he wants until he loses it. Fragile Ellie seems to become a wraith, a ghost of a friend to Fran, as the past catches up with all of them.

This will keep the reader guessing until the final distressing pages.

***

The Secret was Jan’s first published novel, but she also ghosted an autobiography for black American soul singer/songwriter, Tommy Hunt; ONLY HUMAN, published by Bank House Books in Dec. 2009, which has consistently sold.

 

Originally trained in fashion design, Jan first worked for the House of Worth in Mayfair, London in 1958. She then moved on to wholesale fashion. Marriage to an army officer took her to Germany for three years. Later, back in civilian life, they moved to Singapore: ‘another amazing experience’, she says, as all this proved valuable ‘grist’ to her writing ‘mill’.

After a painful divorce, she survived six years with two children as a one parent family - a tough period, which she has drawn from in her fiction writing. She’s had many jobs; you name it, Jan has had a go! Her last was sales rep for a designer spectacle frame company, until redundancy finally allowed her to pursue her writing ambition.

She has a daughter Jayne, son Justin, and two beautiful granddaughters Abby and Alexia, all of whom she’s extremely proud. Jan has been happily married to Mark for thirty years, and they live in a converted barn in rural Yorkshire.

She has used her knowledge and experience in her latest books:

A Face to Die For

 

Joanna

 

Looking at You

 

Visit her website: www.janwarburton.co.uk

 

Writealot blog stats-1

Chart - Wikipedia commons

Although I started this blog on January 15, 2009, I really didn't write posts regularly until last year, when I ceased being the commissioning editor of Solstice Publishing in the US. That severance freed up time for me to concentrate on my own projects, and in particular allowed time to put more than my toe into the social media, such as Facebook, Twitter and blogging.

I may have been writing commercial fiction and articles for over 40 years, but with regard to the social media I'm still a novice compared to many. 

Whatever the subject, I try to make the blog posts interesting, and not only shouts of 'buy my book, buy my book'. Some seem to succeed, others don't. When I post about reviews of my books, I'm sharing my pleasure rather than bragging. (Naturally, I don't tend to share the poor reviews, which we all get!)

The blog statistics are quite fascinating, I must admit, and they may prove of interest, so here are a few.

In just over 5 years I've written 534 posts, and there are 761 comments (including my responses). [Now, I tend to post daily, whereas before it was much less frequent; if I'd posted daily from the outset, then my posts would be 1,500 or so... ]

Currently, the average monthly page-views are about 3,500; (new readers are welcome every day!) 

Since that tentative beginning in 2009, 69,228 page views have been registered.

From day to day the 'audience' or readers will vary, but today, for example, here are the countries where readers of my blog reside, in order of volume/numbers:

US
UK
Turkey
Ukraine
Canada
France
China
Germany
Spain
Indonesia

So, thanks to all those individuals in the above countries (and others doubtless not listed in today's snapshot!) for taking time out to read my blog. I hope I can continue to provide material of interest in the weeks and months ahead.

Adios!

Writing - 'An inspirational book'

It’s not often that writers get a personal letter from a reader. Occasionally, there may be a comment on the website or the blog, or even a review, all of which are always welcome and appreciated.

Today, however, I received that rare thing, an e-mail from a reader I don’t know that really made my day.

 

***

I was paging through the latest issue of Writers' Forum and to my great interest came across 'How To Break Into Westerns' which included an interview with your good self. As a long time devotee of Westerns I thoroughly enjoyed reading the comments and it inspired me to get off my rear and purchase Write A Western In 30 Days and finish it in two days. I have also ordered several reference books you recommend. As a result of your inspirational book I am putting aside another book I am attempting to write and concentrating on a Western. 

My first love of the Western came about when growing up in South Africa in the fifties and every Saturday would find a group of us down at the local cinema swapping comics and enjoying the latest goodies v. baddies sagas. At this time I also sent a 1/6d postal order to the UK to join the Hopalong Cassidy Fan Club and was duly rewarded with a signed photo of Hopalong himself!

Something I have discovered that makes my writing easier, more enjoyable and even more interesting is to use Google Earth.

After research via the Internet - Google, Wikipedia - and books, I insert icons on Google Earth at the locations mentioned. For example, my Wyatt Earp folder includes his birthplace, grave and places in between pinpointed with the appropriate icons (Stetson, boots, revolver etc). An added plus is that you can have border outlines, cities etc., or turn off the markers and just have the continental USA in bare geographical splendour. I divide the characters into outlaws, lawmen etc.

What has struck me is how much the characters travelled during their lifetimes. Considering the size of the country and the means of transport, they certainly got around. I am also setting up the different trails - Santa Fe, Chisolm etc. Time passes quickly when you get absorbed in this.

Once again, thank you for the interview and your fascinating book. I will be purchasing your other works as well.

Happy trails,

 
Geoff Riddell

***

So, thank you, Geoff, for taking the time not only to write but to comment at length. I’m happy that my book has inspired you. 

It can be purchased on Amazon UK here

and

Amazon COM here

and

the print book can also be purchased post-free world-wide here
 

Writing - guide keeps popping into charts

It's a pleasant surprise when my writing guide Write a Western in 30 Days keeps popping into the top 100 on Amazon UK. It's just happened again.

#10 in Kindle Store > Books > Education & Reference > Publishing & Books
#28 in Books > Reference > Publishing & Books > Authorship
#69 in Kindle Store > Books > Education & Reference > Writing

Of course it doesn't stay there for long and no way can it be classified as a 'best seller'. Still, it has to date picked up five 5-star and one 4-star reviews on the UK site; on the Amazon COM site it has eight 5-star and three 4-star reviews. So, I'd like to thank everyone who has bought the book to date (some have even bought the print and e-book) and every review is greatly appreciated.

For anyone who hasn't seen the book, reviewers have pointed out that it is a guide for writers of all genres, not only westerns.

It can be purchased on Amazon UK here

and

Amazon COM here

and

the print book can also be purchased post-free world-wide here

'No one but a blockhead...'

 

George Bernard Shaw said that ‘if you don’t write for publication, there is little point in writing at all.’ In as many words he was saying what Samuel Johnson said a long time earlier - that ‘no man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money.’

Neither is strictly true, of course. Writing can be therapy and help through catharsis. You can write for any number of reasons. But if you’re going to take your writing seriously and you want your words to be read and enjoyed, you need to persevere and learn, writing virtually every day. Generally, the more you write, the better you become.

Certainly, it would seem that the majority of writers don’t do it to pay the bills or get rich.

***

This item was gleaned from Writers’ News, September 2014.

            The Authors’ Licensing and Collecting Society (ALCS) has just published the results of their first survey of authors’ earnings since the last one in 2005. Almost 2,500 authors were questioned and the results fond that the median income for professional writers in 2013 was £11,000.

            If you adjust that for inflation, in real terms that represents a fall of 29% since the 2005 survey.

            Indeed, only 11.5% of professional authors in the sample made their living just from writing. In 2005, it was 40%.

            The interpretation is that there has been a decline in both author incomes and in the numbers of those writing full time. The Chief Executive of ALCS regarded the data as shocking.

            The ALCS summary is available at http://writ.rs/alcssurvey.

 

***

Of course, as with any survey, it depends on the sample questioned. The conclusions may not be accurate, since there may be many writers who are not in ALCS. Did the entire sample questioned respond? Even so, experience suggests that those who can live well from their writing are relatively few indeed.

But we must till write. Regardless.

Because we want to be read. Because we are driven to write.

Take heart, and keep writing!