As most of you know (Because there was a time when I'd talk about little else) I've written a few books...
Real books you can hold in your hands and get paper cuts on your nipples from should that be your particular kink, and on the whole they've been pretty well received. People tell me that they've read them and enjoyed them... Some people say that other people have borrowed them and they've also enjoyed them... And some people, who really over-estimate their quality have bought them as gifts for third parties who also say that they enjoyed them (You see, there's a theme, with which you should totally get on board).
There are four 'real' books for you to consider currently, the first two: 'Mumblings of an Irate Pangolin' & 'The Pangolin Yodels' are collections of my opinionated set pieces that originally appeared in my Blog - I'm told that they're funny (Well, that the funny bits are) and are worth a look if you're bored.
Mumblings of an Irate Pangolin
The Pangolin Yodels
There's also 'Child of Air' which is the first of a trilogy of >100,000 word novels describing a version of Britain some quarter-millenia in the future, where aliens, pirates, robots and airships feature quite heavily. Should those things give you a tingly feeling in your nethers, you should definitely buy a copy.
And then there's 'Forever Girl' a collection of short horror and speculative fiction stories that I knocked up over a few lunchtimes - I don't want to sell it short, it's 270-odd pages with about 30 stories after all, and that's hardly a folded pamphlet - And it's probably my personal favourite, I read random pages from it daily on the toilet you know. It features a few more trains than I'd normally be comfortable with, but the heart wants to write about what the heart wants to write about.
Forever Girl (And other stories)
But, due to a bit of bad luck and some lifestyle changes, I've pretty much stopped writing and a lot of people are somewhat miffed (See my previous posts for details) And when I say 'Miffed' some of them have become quite vocal
There have been threats on my life, offers to remove, or at least render inoperable, my primary male sexual feature (I was going to describe it as an 'outstanding feature', but I've recently had it surgically reduced by a couple of inches, and it's been cold too) To try and force my hand as far as returning to writing is concerned.
'Child of Space' the follow-up to 'Child of Air' is almost 25,000 words into a first draft and my new novel, which has the possibility of becoming a darkly humorous supernatural series (Should I be able to inject sufficient dark humour), depending on how it's received by you buggers - is currently sitting at a very light 5,000 words... I'm only aiming at around 80,000 words here, so you could probably roll it up and stick it in your pocket for reading at the yacht club and so forth.
'Jaffward Moncrieffe and the Primary Problem' will tell the ongoing story of a late 19th Century Vampire Freemason Tattooist who fights a daily battle against both vampire hunters and his own elective veganism to live a 'normal' life... Should be a complete doddle - It almost writes itself!
Don't ask when they're going to be published, because I'm properly out of practice.
But they're coming - And there might even be owls... Owls are sorely under-represented in modern supernatural literature... As long as we forget about a popular child wizard who is still doing the rounds.
And who wouldn't feel better if we did that?
