Friday, 26 April 2013

All The King´s Bastards

All The King´s Bastards is done and now in edit. Also have to commission a cover. But we are talking really soon now. In a couple of day I´ll post a snippet here as requested.

Thought you might like to know. :0)

Saturday, 20 April 2013

All The King´s Bastards

All the King´s Bastard´s may have a new title, though I may decide to leave it.

Two things to share...

One: the work comes on apace thanks to a little help with my mind from the best person in the world, who I am lucky enough to know. Soon now I will share the beginning here. Soon after I will release the book.

Two: there will certainly be a book five.

Oh, a third thing. A gift. Feel free to share this: :0)

Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Drifting Isles Chronicles

This is a superb project. Just utterly wowed.

Steampunk Fantasy in a Shared Universe

Drifting Isle Chronicles

Go take a look. Definitely the next big thing. Not a publisher but an agreer of quality in a shared universe. Excellent idea, wonderfully executed.

Friday, 5 April 2013

The Indie Sportlight

Featured on The Indie Spotlight today.

Looks good. I noticed a couple of typos *sigh* but otherwise we are fine. The excerpt is a good one, so I´m going to reproduce it below.

The Indie Spotlight

Excerpt from book:
He pushed his face close to mine. “Some of us are risking our lives for your drunken, no good, worthless carcass, and some of us would appreciate it if you would cooperate a little bit!”
I nodded dumbly, chastened as only a drunk can be. A tear came to my eye and I told him I was sorry and tried to give him a hug.
“Oh, for gods’ sake,” he seethed almost silently. “Come on.” He half dragged me to the balcony.
It was foggy out. I couldn’t see anything. I wanted a drink. “Beer.” I started back in and he stopped me.
“Wait, listen. Jocasta is here, down there, waiting for you.”
I looked over into the sea of fog, seeing nothing much more than a few feet of wall under the balcony. “Down there?”
“Hush, dammit,” he hissed. “Yes.”
I swung one leg over the balcony and lost my balance. I would have fallen if he had not held me.
“Wait. I have rope.” He swiftly looped it around me and expertly tied it so that it was snug under my arms. “Now try.” I did. I was barely over the edge before I lost my grip and fell. I didn’t realize I was in danger so didn’t make a sound. I heard the rope slipping through his fingers harshly, then I jerked to a stop. After that I descended more smoothly, swinging around in a slow circle and feeling sick and dizzy, seeing nothing but the fog and occasional flashes of wall.
I couldn’t wait to see her. I had to tell her something important; what was it though? Her loupe! Damn, I’d lost her loupe! She was going to go crazy at me. I started climbing the rope. I had to go get it back. It didn’t work very well, Sapphire was lowering me faster than I could climb, and I couldn’t climb worth a damn; my feet touched the ground and a second later the rope fell out of the air on top of me. “Damn, damn, damn!” I growled, quietly. I didn’t want her to hear me.
“Hush, Sumto.”
She’d heard me.
I looked around. She wore white and almost blended into the fog, just her dark hair standing out around her pale face. Big green eyes met mine and held me spellbound.
“I’m sorry!” I blurted.
“Shussh,” She raised her hand and there was a flash of non-light so fast I couldn’t see it. I caught a glimpse of a stone that must have been eighty carats.
“I lost your loupe, they took it.” To my amazement, I couldn’t hear myself speak. I hesitated a second, then laughed. It was bizarre, not a sound. I could feel the movement, knew I was laughing, but couldn’t hear it. “What did you do?” I wasn’t deaf, it was just that the sound made no sound. I stamped my foot to test the theory and sure enough, my shoes rang on the cobbles. Jocasta grabbed my arm and my attention. She really did have the biggest green eyes ever. “I’ve missed you,” I said and tried to hug her.
“Sumto,” she hissed, “you’re drunk.”
I nodded earnestly, remembering something important. I leaned back and shouted up to Sapphire. “Bring the beer!”
Damn, he wouldn’t hear me. I gave Jocasta a little shake, pointed up and then made a drinking motion, my hand gripping an invisible glass.
I have never seen anyone flush with anger quite that quickly. I watched the process, fascinated. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”
“You are a drunken fool, just like my father said.”
Under the circumstances, I think that was a bit harsh.


The three of us walked through the fog in near silence, only my shoes echoing on the cobbles. They both wore soft slippers, I saw, looking down and nearly losing my balance. Sapphire grabbed my arm and steered me after that. I was grateful. Walking in a straight line was nearly impossible. Was impossible. I was very drunk indeed. It was only the shock of seeing them that had induced in me a false lucidity, a temporary sobriety. I was noticing things, but not much, and not rationally, and I knew it. The two dead guards at the gate, for example. I saw them but couldn’t tell who they were. A third walked out of the fog and I lurched toward him, arms wide, ready to hug him. He caught me and held me up.
“You stink of booze,” Meran said. “Just like the old days.”
“No! It’s not my fault!” I didn’t make a sound. It had been funny at first, but now it was frustrating. My emotions wavered from one extreme to another and I recognized the syndrome.
“Let’s get you home,” He tucked one arm round my waist, just like the old days, and we staggered on together, heading home. Where-ever and what-ever home might be now.
“How did you survive?”
“What? Can’t hear you.”
“I silenced him, he was being a buffoon. We were trying to rescue him and he was… was …”
“Being drunk?” Meran supplied.
“Do we have to talk?” Sapphire asked in the quietest voice I have ever heard anyone use and still sound like they are shouting.
“I can, no one can hear me.”
No one answered. But then, what had I expected? No one could hear me.
We walked on in a fog of muffled sounds for what seemed a long time. I was tired. I wanted to sleep. I said so. No one listened. I tried to sit down and Meran wouldn’t let me. I was almost used to his ministrations. He had helped me home several times when I had been a drunk in truth, and he had the knack of it. He talked to me, softly, not angry, encouraging, urging me on. It seemed to take a long time. I either passed out on the way or I just don’t remember the rest. It’s hard to say. It always was.