Happy Release Day, Kate!

Kate Cotoner's novella, Thunder, part of the Color Box line, is now available from Torquere Press.

Wu Jin has both brains and beauty. Though poor, his family are noble enough for Jin to sit the imperial examinations in the hope of obtaining a high-ranking government position at the court of Tang Dynasty China. When his parents are killed and his home destroyed in a fire, Jin clings to his dreams and travels to the provincial capital for the exams. Pursued by a sinister horseman into the forest, Jin seeks refuge at a tumbledown inn, little realising that he's entered the abode of a fox-spirit.

Tian Zhen is a huxian, a transcendental fox of immense power and considerable seductive charm. He's startled when Jin sees through his illusions, and believes it's Jin's destiny not only to become his lover, but also to help him find a lost talisman - the symbol of Zhen's heavenly role as the Guardian of Thunder. But convincing Jin won't be easy, and the search for the talisman turns dangerous when Jin discovers it's connected to the man who murdered his parents...

Available as an ebook for $3.95

Go to her website to check out an excerpt.

(I haven't read the story, but Kate's an auto-buy for me ever since "Enslaved", and more so with "Conduit" in "Echoes")

Wrapping up before Easter

I'm wrapping up a couple things at work today - hopefully I can take tomorrow off and that way get a five-day editing weekend to whip some text into shape.

Talking of which, I've done some formatting work on "Return on Investment" - fixing indents and dashes and some hyphens and quote marks - which pretty much took up all evening yesterday. The exciting life of a writer. Also scaling back the use of single quotes and using more italics, and reviewing the use of italics overall (to whit, I think that overuse of italics looks insecure, so if at all possible, I try and leave them out). I'm also cutting a little flab here and there... nothing more than a sentence at this point, or two.

Since the beast is so long, it's a lot of work. Fiddly stuff that requires a lot of focus and time. Thirty-three chapters. Ho boy. The work on a novel is really never done.

I'll try and give Alec a parting shot and make Martin a little more sympathetic (I know the type from real life/work, and they aren't just self-involved assholes, some are actually pretty sweet) - it's a sentence here and there that should accomplish it. Then I'll have to look very closely at a stretch of about 10k, where the tension sags a bit and try and tighten it up.

That particular piece of writing still stumps and mystifies me a bit; it's like one of those pieces that drop on you from out of the sky and you're not quite ready to catch. For the last 18 months, I've mostly juggled that big lump and tried not to drop it on the ground, so if you imagine me juggling it like a boiling hot potato, tossing it from one hand to the other while determined to not let it go, that's me and ROI.

Like "Collateral", it's one of those key stories. "Collateral" gave me back my joy in writing after having been locked up for way too long in a messy creative nightmare, and "Return on Investment" came from working in this place for a year and encountering interesting people that wield a lot of power and often enough know it.

It's also the first complete stand-alone contemporary novel that makes any sense and that I finished. No big brand to lean against, no fantasy mechanics to make stuff up, just the World As I See It. Certainly one of the more personal projects, and a scream of liberation after what was an otherwise excretable 2008. I recovered so much with that novel, and it got me the rest of the way back from creative burn-out. This book happened despite people, not because of them.

There are still its connected projects - Blood Run Cold, which uses some of the cast in different guises in a different world; Question of Intent, which I want to finish, and Conflict of Interest, which I'm not sure will happen at all at this point. But QoI and CoI are both not urgent urgent, they are lingering in the background, kicking cans around, but they don't force me to write them, so they might not happen - I'm very wary of projects that lack the initial blast of irresistible energy. Writing not carried on the momentum and just because "I'm a competent writer" yields OK stories, after all, you always have the craft to fall back onto, but it's that blast of energy that really creates the best work.

I wish I could say I have that kind of energy all the time, but I can't, really. I sometimes do write "because I can" rather than "because I must". It's OK, I rather write a solid story than not at all, but, as I said, out of the three possible books, it's really "Return on Investment" that has the most energy and life.

But right now, it's fiddly, focused work just making it prettier.

"Clean Slate" - excerpt chapter 1

I just saw that "Clean Slate" went up on Dreamspinner with excerpt. (Here's the link).

And here's the exerpt (and feedback's welcome):

-------------------------------------
Chapter One

Chris Gibson finished cleaning the sniper rifle and reassembled it, fingers finding grooves on their own accord, metal and carbon pieces slotting so neatly together he imagined it was an organic entity, muscles and tendons more than parts of a weapon.

John had his legs propped up on the living room table, but Chris spotted the tension in his British teammate’s face and hands, despite his best attempt to assume that level Asian mask that only half-worked on this half-breed. Seeing that Chris gazed over, he tried to make the cell in his hand vanish. But sleight-of-hand wasn’t John’s strong suit.

“Did he text you again?” Chris asked, wiping the rifle down with a rag.

“Yeah, he did.”

“And you gave him your work contacts?”

John looked up, looking wounded. “We were going steady for more than three years, Chris. Sorry. But I did love that guy.”

Chris arched an eyebrow and put the weapon down. Making a move on his heartsore teammate might be a terrible idea, but he liked John especially because he was fairly emotional. Chris sometimes called him his “sane part,” but, of course, that was a simplification and an exaggeration. It did take a crazy motherfucker to work for GORGON. Now that John’s boyfriend was out of the picture, maybe something would happen. Wasn’t that the best way to mend a broken heart?

Chris wrapped up the rifle, placed it in a sports bag, and added a couple magazines. Five rounds should be enough for everybody, but still.

“Okay. You ready to kill that motherfucker?” Chris asked, grabbing his bag.




They drove up the hill, silent for the most part. Idle chatter or listening to music might break concentration, even though John couldn’t quite suppress the memories. Three and a half years gone, just like that. He hadn’t been an easy partner to live with, and Wayne had assumed John fucked around with other guys during all the traveling he was doing because of the job. How ironic. The missions made him feel more lonely, if anything, and while a domestic life was difficult to maintain, he’d bent over backwards to at least give it a shot.

GORGON discouraged relationships for exactly that reason. Deep undercover usually meant they matched him up with somebody who could act as if he or she was a partner. Every now and then, GORGON teammates even married—proof that whoever put teammates together could have had a career as a real matchmaker. In this case, he wondered if they hadn’t teamed him up with Chris the Manslut so he’d slow the rate at which Chris went through his many affairs. Fat chance. He’d never doubt Chris’s professional integrity, and he’d trust him with his life, but in terms of a personal life, John couldn’t get his head around Chris’s voracious appetite for more-or-less anonymous sex. Exchanging phone numbers in the morning didn’t make it non-anonymous in John’s book. Somebody at GORGON must be laughing their head off at this team-up.

He pulled the pistol from its holster and checked it again. He’d act as Chris’s spotter for the hit, meaning he protected him close range and watched to see if the target went down. Chris was by far the better marksman, so that made sense.

Chris pulled into a parking space halfway up the hill, then grabbed his bag. They left the car behind, moving uphill well off the riding trail. Despite the shade of the pine forest, it was warm and the breeze from the Mediterranean died in the thick vegetation before it could bring relief.

John cursed himself for deciding to wear the dark blazer to cover the holster under his arm. But they had decided to do the hit during the day rather than at night, because daytime was the only time when their mark was actually at home and vulnerable.

Finally, they got to the private access road leading up to the lodge. Chris took position on a rock overlooking the crossing; John settled down too. Their mark’s red Maserati GranTurismo had to slow down before getting on the main road due to the potholes. If he didn’t want to fuck up the car’s axles, he had to slow down to a crawl here, and that would give them plenty of time to blow his brains out.

It shouldn’t take longer than an hour.





No sportscar. Chris gritted his teeth, but damn, two hours was nothing if he was waiting for his shot. He should be able to wait like this for a few more hours, or, if the mark didn’t show up soon, change positions with John. Getting the mark was more important than the boredom or even the fucking mosquitoes that had heard the rumor they were the featured item at the daily buffet.

As he was about to swat one of those bloodthirsty bitches on his knuckles, a car engine howled, but it came from the wrong direction. A black Jeep Cherokee barreled up the road and turned into the private street, easily bouncing over the potholes. Oh, the mark had visitors.

John tapped him on the thigh. “Shit, that’s wrong.”

“What?”

“Those guys were armed to the teeth.” John was about to break cover, but Chris had his hands full and couldn’t press him down. “Maybe they are….”

“Hmm, possibly. Not a bad solution, actually.”

“If it is a solution.” John shook his head. “Let’s go.”

“Not yet. Give them five minutes to fight it out.”

They waited, breathless, and Chris wished he’d brought some body armor. Damn them for keeping this low-key. He half-expected their mark to try and make a run for it, which would mean they could pull off the hit as planned, but as the time passed, he had to admit it was not the likeliest scenario. Then an explosion, like from a hand grenade. They looked at each other, and John clearly thought the same thing he did.

“Fuck this, let’s go,” John said.

They gathered their gear and carefully followed along the road.

Where the Jeep had crashed through the entrance, two guards were perforated and very clearly dead. Uzi, Chris reckoned. Nice work.

“Shit. That’s messy,” John muttered with more distaste than a man of his profession should have.

“Clearly meant to send a message,” Chris murmured, breaking into a jog. The grounds surrounding the opulent lodge were well-kept: park-like, while still providing plenty of cover. Up this close, they couldn’t hear gun shots, so either people did the dirty work with suppressors or the fight was over. Chris knew which one he preferred. He slung the sniper rifle on his back and pulled his Beretta as they advanced on the house.

The door had been ripped out with an explosive charge. Half the front was missing, opening the view to a generous wood-paneled hall that took most of the lower floor and two dead men; their ski masks marked them as attackers. Another dead man, half his face torn off, most likely a bodyguard.

They moved forward. Still two shooters unaccounted for, plus their mark. Stairs suspended in the middle of the house led to a second level. Another corpse on the way up: attacker number three. Further up, a bedroom with a large bathroom. In the bath, spread out over the tiles, the body of a young dark-haired woman, naked and very beautiful, limbs angled uncomfortably. Chris paused for a moment, noticing faint surgery scars under her too perfect, large breasts before he turned around.

A final gunman lay sprawled near the bed, shot twice, in throat and chest, at short range. Crumpled behind the bed, their mark, Andrei Voronin, naked and covered in blood. His left wrist was broken, a shard of bone poking angrily through the skin.

John moved to crouch near the body.

“He’s bought it,” Chris told him. “And the hooker too.” Chris patted his teammate on the shoulder. “Looks like our work here is done.” He’d already stepped away when John’s voice made him stop.

“He’s alive.”

“Not for long. He took it in the head.” Chris turned and lined up the gun. Chest, throat, face should do it. No need to make the man suffer. “I’ll just finish him.”

John stepped into his way. “He’s alive. We need to get him out of here. Stat.”

“We’re here to kill him, John. What the fuck are you thinking?”

“They said neutralize,” John reminded him in that prissy don’t even think of fucking with me tone. “But if you feel better about it, I’ll call in.”

“A couple bullets is a good way to accomplish that,” Chris groused while John pulled out the phone and pressed fast dial. A warning glance told him not to shoot the mark before John stepped to the side. It did give Chris a few moments to study the mark’s body, all toned like that of a habitual runner, his light eyes staring into nothing while the brain connected to those eyes was likely dribbling out of the temple wound. Three-day stubble, blond hair wet and shoulder-length. Nice-sized cock. If the man was a grower, that hooker had at least gone out with a smile.

John pocketed the phone. “They say ‘deal with it’.”

“Carte blanche, aka ‘fuck if we care’,” Chris translated. No fucking wonder. GORGON trusted its agents on the ground to make judgment calls. Still, they’d agreed and planned to kill Andrei. Pulling a 180-degree turn out of nowhere was just fucking irritating, especially since they had no planning in place to accommodate that.

“Let’s get a move on before somebody shows up. He needs a hospital, and fast.”

“Here’s goodbye to going to that casino after the job.” The expression on John’s face showed him there was no point in arguing. “You’re an asshole,” Chris mumbled as he helped his partner wrap Voronin in the least bloody sheet and hustle him outside.

“Fucking stupid idea, Johnny,” Chris reminded him multiple times as they picked the least unobtrusive route back to their vehicle. “And we’re going to explain this to the hospital staff how?”

They got Voronin safely into the back seat. “I’ll figure it out on the way, now move!”

True to his word, John had all the bases covered by the time they reached the nearest hospital.

Chris’s hope the mark would die on the way proved wrong. It was just a ten-minute drive—everything in Monaco was close—and John alerted the hospital by cell phone, so nurses were waiting with a gurney when they pulled into the parking lot. A whole flock of doctors and nurses came to take the patient in, and John told them some bullshit story about having found him out in the forest, giving directions that were close enough to the real place.

Damn, the boy was slick. It was one of the things Chris had always found attractive about him: he could bullshit his way into or out of anything. No wonder GORGON had recruited him.

When John sat down in the car again, Chris regarded him and his bloodied jacket. He looked agitated, flushed, but the sexiness of the look was dulled by the fact that their car now stank like a slaughterhouse. “Why the fuck, John? Why didn’t we just finish him off there or let him bleed out? He won’t make it. Have you seen his skull?”

“That’s precisely why I think he might make it. It was hard to tell, but the exit wound was as if the bullet skidded around his skull and came out near where it entered. It’s not entirely unheard of. There was a skirmish once where—”

“Oh, not that shit again.”

John fell silent. “Fine. I’ll stop. But I’m calling it in.”

Chris exited the vehicle and leaned against the fender while John worked his oratory magic on their superior, no doubt explaining why “neutralize” these days meant “getting him to ER” and setting up everything else they’d need.

The local cops would be curious, too; gun battles were rare in Europe where restrictive gun laws kept anything bigger and more lethal than an airgun out of civilian hands. Chris wasn’t worried, though. GORGON would make sure any investigation would run exactly the way they wanted. The Monaco PD wouldn’t be the first local cops that found themselves overruled from high above and their investigations canceled out of nowhere. GORGON carried the bigger stick.

When he finally got off the phone, John looked at him. “The boss says he’s our responsibility. She said ‘make the best of it’, so all bets are off.”

“And?”

“Forgers at HQ will manufacture a false identity and paper trail so one of ours claims to be next of kin and move Voronin to another facility if he survives. We take it from there.”

"Nice one,” Chris muttered. But it made sense. They knew the mark best and could work more efficiently on the case than anybody they could bring in from outside on short notice. “Short notice” was, of course, entirely John’s fault.

After the interview with the local cops, they headed back to their rented apartment in a luxury complex on the edge of Monte Carlo to shower and change. A crew from GORGON was already waiting to sanitize the car.

Chainsaw done, hand me the skalpel

Today I received two sets of brilliant feedback - Jessica confirmed my suspicions regarding To Catch a Spy, Jordan might have solved a problem that Return on Investment has.

Now I have to "enact" (love the management terms - not) the feedback on TCaS from Kate and Jessica on TCaS and then pitch it to $Publisher (well, a guy can dream) and also work on ROI. With that, I have enough work on my plate until at least my birthday in May - definitely a solid 4 weeks' worth of work. Hard bleeding work.

I'm just glad I'm no longer chasing the May deadline for Iron Cross. Dealing with these two old novels is probably more important than writing IC at this point. Of course, those priorities can change in an instant (like an agent getting in touch with "full, please"); I'll do what it takes for the novels.

So I'll address the formatting issues in ROI tonight and tomorrow (I think I already sorted a fair amount of that over the weekend), and then begin implementing (another of those words) the changes in a slow and measured response. AKA, no 4 day editing marathon that leaves me half-mad and my muse catatonic.

To Catch a Spy can already get some improvements while I'm waiting for the rest of the feedback to come in - I had two very awake readers on that and they basically said the same thing, confirming some of my fears/suspicions. With TCaS, I know we have something very solid there, but we haven't developed it to its full potential. Yet.

Now that I have put down the chainsaw, I need to find finer tools. I know I have them somewhere. (This is an insider joke - somebody once said I'm writing with a chainsaw - it's all powerful and rough and brutal). First draft was all chainsaw - fast, powerful, a mad wrestle with the powers of that story and the muse. Glorious.

The second draft of TCaS I did with a meat cleaver. Rich, choppy sounds, half technique and half brute strength/endurance, but less jagged than chainsaw-work.

What I now need is a surgical blade, making fine incisions like any cosmetic surgeon - in ways that the scars don't show. That's the hard work. Spitting out 100k of text is easy, one mad rush. Making it pretty is hard. It feels like giving a whale a facelift - you kinda have to trust the bone structure underneath because at this point in time, it's very hard to see it with fresh eyes.

But gods, it beats the shit out of editing Special Forces or hankering after that old text that is "dead and gone." I'm moving forward, one skalpel-breadth at a time, but I will make TCaS and ROI really good. I owe it to those books, and if that means really working them, I do that, too.

No need to fret. Fretting is stupid. I keep thinking "what if Ray Bradbury had given up on Fahrenheit 451 before it was done?" - and all my mad hubris aside, I'm a writer, and a writer writes. And then he edits. And then he edits some more. And then he sells, if he chooses to and is thusly inclined.

It's all about "reach for the stars - if you fail, at least you won't be left with a handful of mud."

It's not even that relentless drive for publication. I'm covered for publications up until July 2010. I'll have 5 or 6 releases in 2010, I'm sorted. It's much more than 2009 (1) and 2008 (1) and 2007 (0). What I'm working on right now are publications for 2011 and 2012 (if I'm lucky, print just takes longer).

And, be very afraid: I have this mad craving to write poetry again. Some synapses in my head are misfiring... it's all thunder and glory at the moment. Brilliant. I may type up some of my "poems", kick them into shape, put them into a PDF and put them on my website. My poems are like skin flakes, they happen, so I shed them as fast as possible. They are parts of me, but I'm just not much of a poet, there's no market for it, but I still have to get them out.

Anyway, that's me today.

I have feet, says Ricky Martin

This is the best article on Ricky Martin... errr... coming out.

I have feet, says Ricky Martin.

My uncle outed him to me something like 15 years ago? Has it been that long?

Good on you, Ricky, live long and prosper and have a high-profile marriage and kids. You certainly deserve it for the gift your music and joy.

Clean Slate Release: 21 April

We have a confirmed release date for "Clean Slate" that I wrote with Barbara Sheridan, and it's the 21 April. YES. That's 2 weeks before my birthday. And I love the story still - I've read it about 15 times and I still love it. I love Andrei's inner strength, Chris' acidic humor, and John's calm and goodwill. I think those three guys are perfect for each other.

And the sequel is churning in my head - there's going to be relevations and kinky sex and sexy enemies that kick Chris's ass (no, really, Chris, don't look at me like that). Ah, the love of it all.

Here's the Goodreads link for "Clean Slate". I'm very happy to be with Dreamspinner here, the cover's brilliant and the whole process was, too.

Now have a meeting with HR, so I better find out how to find them. It's a short walk through SoHo, so... right through the red light district. Whenever I think working in financial services sucks, I think of the people in that kinda trade and feel a little better. Or, as my boss famously said "whenever I think this is boring, I look at the Gorkana job offer as editor of Fertilizer Weekly and think it can't be so bad."

Moscow Tube Attacks

Some coward has attacked the citizens of Moscow - my heart goes out to the victims and their families. Those news really hit me in the gut this morning - my partner passed through Aldgate about ten minutes before the train blew up in the 7/7 attacks on London, and I'm only too aware London is a prime target all by itself.

I'm also, as always, uneasy about how the attacks are "Islamist" - apart from the word being plain wrong (imagine we'd call fundamentalist Christians' crimes "Christianist"), every Muslim knows that killing innocents, women and children is not the way to heaven and is not condoned, anywhere, in the Qu'ran (correct me if I'm wrong).

Just because some people get brainwashed by evil, fake clerics/priests/authorities doesn't make them or their deeds representatives of their faith.

IRS will leave my royalties alone & power exchange

Yesterday I got a very serious, very official-looking letter. Suitably awed, I opened it and found that the US IRS has issued me my tax number, while including stern warnings that my immigration status REMAINS UNAFFECTED and that this doesn't equal a WORK PERMIT for the US of A.

Well, I'm glad...my status as a EU citizen paying tax in the UK doesn't really need any further complications.

Redux to 6 weeks ago. Here's the entry about applying for the number. They told me three months, if I get it at all (apparently it can be a little bit of wrangling). No. Painless, fast, and here I go. As much as I love my American friends, I prefer to pay my taxes in the UK - and a 30% cut is worse than the UK 20% cut.

Anyway, I now have a tax number... so all royalties are mine until I report them to Her Majesty's Tax People.

I feel like I claimed a small victory.

Another small victory: "Lion of Kent" is finished. Kate Cotoner is an unstoppable force when she gets into the swing of things and I'm pretty sure she wrote two thirds of the 30k story, but I think it's awesome. So I just wrote the synopsis, enjoyed the re-read, and here we go.

The sequel to "Clean Slate" is stirring in my head. There's a very sexy guy involved and I have to ponder in peace how this guy won't upset the menage too much. I'm not sure I can write m/m/m/m - too many limbs involved, three men is plenty to keep track of. And John is probably a little too conservative to go for an all out mass orgy (even though he's happy enough as one of three).

Cooked up a dystopian sci-fi setting for a story with Raev and try to write a few hundred words before she wakes up again. No idea what it's called yet, only that it'll be fairly dark and BDSM-y.

Raev is perfect for anything that has to do with D/s or bondage or both... and it's been a while. I'm fascinated by the dynamic. Everything I do has to do with power exchange to some extent. Even "Lion of Kent", as a completely medieval story, has that dynamic between master and squire - society, hierarchy, expectations, duty.

Whenever I'm at loss for "chemistry" between characters, I'm looking for the element of power exchange - and once I find it, there I am, off writing, again.

Pens - my addiction

Recently, I've been buying Chinese fountain pens. I have a very nice set by Kaigelu, amber and grey, both fountain pen and rollerball, and for a price that doesn't break the bank, either. Click on the link - my set is the second one down.

When they arrived, they were way, way better than I expected. Apart from my stainless steel Pelikan pen, this is the nicest, classiest pen I've ever owned. The amber/grey with black and gold accents makes me refer to the pen as my "tiger" pen or my "day and night" pen. I just like holding it and turning it against the light to see how the colours change. The writing is smooth, and the nip beats the shit out of every Waterman, Shaeffer, Parker and Campo Marzio I've ever owned. (Granted, I never owned the really expensive brands or the high-end pens of any given line... there's a maximum of what I'm willing to pay for a pen... one reason why you'll never see me with a MontBlanc unless they decide to sponsor me)

So, looking for refills for the rollerball on the internet, I... was ambushed by a few more pens. There's a Hero pen, a Duke pen, and a Bookworm pen that want to go home with me. At less than £10 a pen, often including shipping, how can I possibly resist? And they can make good presents, too. Errr. Never mind that, however much I may want to, I can't possibly write with several pens at the same time.

In terms of notebooks, I'm very fond of unlined Moleskine cahiers. They are slim enough to take anywhere, and they can be used for flow charts and stuff. The normal Moleskine notebook are a bit too narrow in terms of lines, and I feel blank paper is better for "free thinking" if that makes sense. But I like the paper - it's thick enough to write on with a fountain pen, and absorbs the ink fairly well. Plus, they are tough and survive well in suitcases, backpacks, and shoved into pockets.

In terms of ink, I'm currently using Waterman Blue-Black or South Sea Blue bottled ink (all my fountain pens have converters, which appeals to my hands - it's a playful element, and I get the chance, which I often make the most of - to stain my hands and fingers. Liquid ink is love).

Yeah. Maybe I should snap some photos. Or just stop procrastinating and get on with the job.

The sound of one hand typing

The title is borrowing from the "sound of one hand clapping" Zen koan. Well, I'm not very zen at the moment, but it always intrigued me, like those koans do, they are just sitting like bricks in your cerebral lobes.

I'm currently on the introvert cycle of my INFJ nature. I expand, and then I withdraw to sort through new things and impressions and incorporate them into my inner world. I'm also diverting energy into finding a new job and dealing with the job situation here in the most constructive way I can (which means, anything but strangle the culprit). In the last couple months, this place has become unworthy of my loyalty, so I'm definitely leaving. Treating me like a disposable body or a brain-damaged naughty toddler is no way to achieve cooperation. If, in the near future, you notice a technocratic person showing up as a villain... well. They are taken from real life.

My mind, ever the metaphor machine, is easily inspired by such situations and my muse starts clamoring about a gladiator plot "taken from life" as it were, with the gladiators demoralised by mistreatment after their former owner died/went away, and the new owner not giving a fuck about the ludus or at least not about its human lifestock, while being totally in denial. That would be an example of what I call the "banal villain" - somebody incapable of positive action, defensive, aggressive, (dare I say: passive-aggressive?), but lacking real greatness or character. The type of person that should be given an Excel spreadsheet and locked up somewhere safe... I'm sure you know the type.

Regardless of the job situation, I got a few thousand words in for "Lion of Kent" and Kate and me are nearing completion. We're now at about 26k and should be able to get it to 30k with some more fleshing out at the beginning. I think we have a very strong second draft next week that we can shop around.

Also received terrific feedback for "To Catch A Spy", which will take a few weeks, maybe months, to implement, but then we'll have a great, very sellable book. Thanks again to Kate, who's not just a terrific writer but a great feedbacker/beta/critique partner as well.

So, it's moving, if a little slowly. In positive news, we might sign the house contracts next week and move into the house in the first week of May. I can't wait.

What is this real life you're talking about?

My plan of escaping my current company (or at least the department) is moving forward. Registered yesterday for a job with a research company, had a chat today for an in-house referral move...both were quite positive, which, ironically, gave me a boost in terms of productivity at work today.

Tomorrow I'll have a meeting with HR, so things are moving along.

More good news: Jenre has reviewed "Echoes of the Future" here and liked it.

"Lion of Kent" is at 24k words and might even get to 30k. And I think it's awesome, but I'm biased.

Clean Slate sorted, Lion of Kent moving apace, other news

Just got the galleys for "Clean Slate" - full marks to Dreamspinner, pushing projects through like that. I read the story on the way into work and it's all good. Nothing I could spot, and even after reading it 15 times, I still enjoy it, which is a good sign.

I look forward to writing the sequel, because I have an awesome plot twist in my mind and I'd do anything to get another cover from Paul Richmond.

I keep thinking how it's funny how my mind is taking to the novella format. Much stuff I'm writing now is 25-30k, and I guess that's a natural size for a romance - which has one main plot and a smaller background plot. It's awfully difficult to keep a romance going over the full novel length.

Not that I'm not trying with other projects, but none of those are sold yet. Novellas are quick to write, great fun, and easily sold: I can write those in about 2-4 weeks alone or 1-2 weeks with a co-writer if I/we feel inspired and depending on how much else is going on.

25-30k seems to be a good size for ebooks, too, quick, easy reads you can do in a day. Or on a commute into and out of work. At the same time, it's more satisfying than a short story and much less "work" than a novel, which I still need about 4-6 months for. The level of complexity is just totally different, because a novel needs 3 to 5 plots going on at the same time, and that requires a lot more planning. There are plenty of "full" novels in my head, and I'm still working on them in parallel, but it takes much longer for them to come out. "Iron Cross" after all has been going for something like 6-7 months now.

Got feedback from a reader on Lion of Kent, and she loves it. So do I. Kate Cotoner is a brilliant co-writer for medieval stuff - just as expected. I'm really glad I met her through reviewing for Speak Its Name and she took the risk of co-writing with me. Awesome things happen when historians team up to write history; two fields of specialities combine; her knowledge of English politics in the 12th century and my knowledge on hunting and warfare. You'll spot my ideas in the story and spot hers, too, but ideally, you won't be able to tell which bits I wrote and which are hers. I struggle pinpointing the exact moment of hand-over.

With Lion of Kent, we're 20k into the story and will likely get 5-10k more text overall, and then the first one is done, that part of William's life is covered.

Lion of Kent might turn into a series of 4-5 novellas of similar size in total, which should give me releases towards the end of the year (I have nothing scheduled after June, yet, but am determined to change that). The setting is fascinating and I have all the research books at home already - I bought them for other projects years ago. I'll now have to start on the knighting preparations for William and bulk up the sex scenes; the first two are a bit short, I agree. The last bit I wrote was the boar hunt, which worked out pretty well and Kate just covered the political ramifications. I'll do the rest of the hunting culture stuff and then we'll move on towards the ending. But so far, the energy and pace of that story is simply awesome, I have a ball co-writing it.

I'll begin drafting the synopsis today and then begin pitching it to publishers.

Now I have to get back into "Iron Cross" and push it forward. The print-out is sitting on my desk and I'll start dragging the manuscript around with me again tomorrow or the day after. Before I do, I promised one of my betas/critique partners an opinion on her stuff. That's what I did yesterday and the day before - re-read Gileonnen's novella and read A B Gayle's current project, "Mardi Gras" and hopefully offered some helpful comments.

No other news in the "real life", so I'm trying to keep my head down and focus on the writing. Whatever happens or doesn't happen, the writing is most important.

Contracts & rights

Lately, the trend in my writing network has been that of contracts. One writer got two contracts offered, and had to decide which one to take. Another told me he'd self-published because the contract offers he received were iffy.

I've been burned quite badly in terms of contracts, so I'm offering a couple opinions. I sold away all my rights for five paperback novels. All of them. Everything. Even the rights to my characters (yes, and it does feel like sending your spouse or a hot affair of a few months into slavery). All in return of an advance for 5% royalties of cover price. It did, however, pay my rent and pulled me out of a few tight financial spots as a student - so yes, totally worth it.

Owning your characters is not much of a consolation when you live under a bridge and have to drop out of university because your grant has run out. It's a fact of life that many writers are in such desperate financial straights that yes, they end up signing away every right they have. E-book, audio, computer game, film rights. Had my books been made into films and computer games, chances are, I'd not seen a red penny.

So, rights.

The most important thing to look for, at least for me, is the royalty cut. The second most important bit is auxiliary rights. If you get a contract, look at what rights you're giving away. For example, giving away your print rights to an e-publisher doesn't make any sense, because the e-publisher will not use them, and it does rob you of the opportunity to make a buck or two via CreateSpace or Lulu or a small self-published traditional print-run. Same with audio books. Don't give away your audio rights if they are not getting used. Audio may well be the Next Big Thing. I always, always look at a paragraph that says I can submit my own cover or hire my own cover artist.

The length of contract isn't that important. I don't mind signing books away for five or ten years. So far, there are very few e-books getting re-released with other e-publishers, so it doesn't appear to be a big market (yet?). What might be interesting in terms of rights returning is the ability to do a "collection" in paper or in e-format that forms part of the backlist. I don't have any experiences with that, yet.

In any case, I see every contract headed my way as a suggestion. It's like on a Turkish market. They try to get everything they can. After all, in their shoes, it's less work to get all rights so you don't have to negotiate if/when the situation arises that they want to do something else with the books.

Publishers aren't out to screw us, they are just saving themselves work... but some are placing a blank cheque in front of you and tell you "sign on the dotted line". Err, no. At least fill in the number. Check what they actually do with those rights. You're not doing anybody a favour giving them rights they won't use. The intent to use them "some day in the future" is not enough. That's why people are getting literary agents - they know their rights, they know what's a good deal. My friend's literary agent got her ten times the advance the publisher was trying to offer, *and* secured a deal for a trilogy rather than sell just one book. An agent like that is priceless, but if you don't have an agent, you have to develop a bit of business-savy yourself.

So, haggle and negotiate, and in the end, you're only giving what you're comfortable with, and the other party still has made a good deal. Both walk away happy. Nobody got skinned alive. (And yes, I paid too much money for a carpet in Turkey because I'm bad at haggling in person, but the internet helps by taking the stress out).

In terms of the paperback novels - that story ends well. I called the right holder, asked him if he's going to do anything with my characters, he said "uhm, no", I asked if I can have them back, because I have an idea for them, and what he said was "you're such a great writer, all I want is a copy of the book with those characters when it comes out. You might even sign it for me."

You bet I will.

Next one kicked out of the door

"Transit" is now with a publisher. I've re-written and edited this bastard so often (and so has Raev) that we're both tired of it. Best time to kick it out of the door ("Oy, you, go and earn your money!") in my book.

Have a tentative release date for a short story - may be May (three releases in one month? Ho boy).

Watched Punisher: War Zone, and Ray Stevenson's performance kicks the hell out of Thomas Jane's (who reminds me of Christopher Lambert on steroids) and Dolph Lundgren's (who was too young and pretty to play Frank Castle). Stevenson can actually act, too, and you could see that people were having a ball making that movie.

As far as I'm concerned, this is the only Punisher movie.

Am now considering to watch Schindler's List, but I know that film will kill me today. I've tiptoed around it for more than fifteen years, always curious, but never had the guts to face it. What I'm after is some images, compositions, a feel for the 1940ies. And I just know the film will kill my motivation to write "Iron Cross", because how on earth can I add anything to that issue?

Sent off a bunch of LuLu books to a number of people, and got some feedback on the print version of "Special Forces: Soldiers I + II". "Absolutely beautiful" is one of those things I like to hear, but the whole look is Clerah's excellent work, I just did the layout. But I think they are much more readable than print-outs.

Coffee machine is heated up, I'll grab a cuppa and then a lemsip for my sore throat, and then I sit my ass down and write and try and finish something so I can kick the next out out of the door.

Mission accomplished: TCaS second draft

I've just finished the last scene of the second draft of "To Catch a Spy", our erotic m/m/f espionage novel which Raev Gray and me wrote in about ten days in first draft in September 2009.

That first version had 74k and three head-hopping points-of-view. The plot had loosely to do with espionage, but mostly, the characters kept shagging each other's brains out. Didn't matter. When you have such great energy going, the plot and style is the last thing you worry about. We let it rest for a little, after two quick edits. In December 2009, we decided to try and get this into a commercially viable format.

Since then, I've been working on the second draft, which was a line-by-line edit, and a complete re-write and re-structure. The headhopping is gone. Gone, too, are about 8k of text that didn't make sense or were just "extra".

The remaining 66k were brushed and polished and checked. The spy plot that never really made it to the surface, was excavated and made to work. I created an oligarch (who is tied into "Clean Slate"), his girlfriend, bodyguard and a lawyer (I've created a lot of lawyers recently), and I think it works now, for the most part.

That re-write saw me add 23k words - so the size of a novella, and re-write I don't know how many words. I think it's safe to say that I didn't leave a single stone unturned in that manuscript. Raev, of course, followed what I was doing, while tackling the much more difficult and three times longer manuscript "Blood Run Cold".

That's a great co-writer - somebody you can trust blindly to improve the text and make the right decision for a text. Apart from Raev, who I can trust completely like that, the only other co-writers I've ever trusted blindly, respectfully, with my writing are Barbara Sheridan, the consummate professional, and Gileonnen, who is a much better writer and stylist than me. I'd blindly sign off any changes they make. I'd add Kate Cotoner to that, but we haven't actually edited anything we've written together, yet, but I have no doubt that it'll be the same when the time comes.

This kind of trust means letting go. Letting go of your ego, and trusting another writer to respect your style, your ideas and not to edit for their ego, but for the benefit of the text, and nothing else. (I'm talking just about co-writers, not editors - that is a subtly, but still different relationship).

So, I'm honoured that Raev trusted me with the re-write of TCaS, and I'm more than happy to trust her with "Blood Run Cold".

And this is the third full-sized novel I've (co-)written since November 2008; Return on Investment, Blood Run Cold, To Catch a Spy. Iron Cross will be number four. And, I don't know, a dozen or so short things.

I'll now have a celebratory vodka, send the manuscript to my beta readers and then fool around on the Internet.

Tomorrow I'll get back into writing "Lion of Kent", and "Iron Cross".

The menage is done.

Culture shock

Returning to work after a day off is a culture shock. I'd much rather pierce both my cheeks with a blunt fork than work here a day longer than I absolutely have to, so I'll spend the impending weekend on applying for jobs. I have a colleague who now works at the biggest international defense magazine, so I will do my utmost to score a job with them. It's a logical progression from my military history studies.

Today, I'll work on To Catch a Spy and write the missing scene. Then it all goes off to Kate to get beta'ed and we talk it all through, while I'll be looking for a list of agents representing erotic romance. I think I'll get a book on how to find an agent, too, and consult my books on the market and work on a strategy.

I pulled "Iron Cross" from the publisher who was interested, and am now seeking agent representation for the book. This will also mean that my deadline of May is a "maybe" rather than a "definitive". There are books I don't want to rush and possibly ruin. Currently, one agent is evaluating the first pages of the manuscript, and also looking at the beginning of "Return on Investment".

I was very torn about what to send the agent. One small press publisher was absolutely shocked at the beginning, which features a suicide attempt and casual sex under the influence. Hey, these guys are financial professionals - those scenes aren't outrageous when you know the type, the stories and the rumours. And it's 2008, when many senior bankers killed themselves (and sometimes their families - something I spared my readers). So, after that small press told me they were too risk-averse to take it, I had to decide which bit of the novel to send to the agent.

I debated with myself long and hard, but the suicide attempt is some of the strongest writing I've ever done - still, even after a year - and the casual sex is, while shocking, also written okay. In addition, an agent that isn't shocked by those "outrageous" scenes is clearly my agent. Similarly, a publisher not afraid of taking that kind of material is clearly my publisher.

I'm not exactly Mr Fluffy-Bunnikins when it comes to my writing, and while I'm no Brett Easton Ellis or Chuck Palahniuk, these are writers I admire intensely for their craft, honesty and the enormous size of the demons they wrestle. The question is, where do I belong in, where's the slot I fit in.

At the moment, I have no clue, but the quest for it is on.

The goal is to sell "Return on Investment" and "To Catch a Spy" this year, and write fast and hard and well so I have more novels to sell soon, especially "Iron Cross". It worries me a little that I have nothing else to sell once these are gone, but that's mostly because my other stuff has been snapped up and I didn't have the time to finish the other WIPs yet.

The other goal is maybe even more important - I'm back to the gym and will train for the 10k charity run in autumn this year. It'll be good to get into running, and possibly boxing. I like hitting shit when I'm stressed.

Birthday day

It's my partner's birthday today, so we had a "couple" day. It's rare enough. We both took a day off work, then went to town, picked up a bunch of parcels, checked with the estate agent on any progress regarding the house, then went to Cafe Rouge for breakfast. It was alright - the scrambled eggs a bit too soggy, the croissant a bit too dry, but an OK breakfast.

Then we went to see "Green Zone", which is a really good action thriller. 'm just glad that the Iraqis weren't treated as "uniformly evil/incompetent". The Iraqi character, Freddy, was very touching - the acting there made you gulp hard and re-think yet again what a raw deal the "common Iraqi" got from this unjust war and the Imbecile-in-Chief.

Afterwards, we got ready and dressed in our nice suits to got for a "nice meal". My partner's work mates (most of them are brokers or finance people) recommended "Chapter One", which is just 2 miles down the road from here.

The service, presentation, food and atmosphere were top-notch, the waiters attentive without lingering and a FAR FAR cry from the snotty bastards at Nobu in Park Lane, or the attractive but utterly incompetent set of waiters from Daphne's or whatever that unspeakable place was called that the PR lady took me once.

The food was both haute cuisine (portions looked smaller than they were) and had a dash of humour that just twinkled off the plate. Panache, grace, humour and fantastic ingredients perfectly blended there. When they noticed that my partner has his birthday, they brought him a plate with "Happy Birthday" written on it and a candle in a brownie cube.

Not like Nobu, last year, where they basically tried very hard to ignore us and then, when they appeared, gave off that impatient air of "get up already, the table is booked in the next slot."

The atmosphere was relaxed, refined without being pretentious, just a feel-good place that didn't intrude upon the food. One of the few high-class restaurants where you can actually relax.

So, I was about to write on my blog about it and link its website, and read they have a Michelin Star. I've eaten at three Michelin Star places - the Italian place in Lombardy will remain unsurpassed, but Chapter One beats the shit out of Nobu just on the basis of service, style, warmth and grace, and in terms of food, they are evenly matched.

If you count the fact that Nobu costs 50% more and is 40 minutes travel away, Chapter One wins hands-down as the new place to celebrate birthdays and signed book contracts.

And which author/novellist can resist a restaurant called "Chapter One"?

Special Forces: Soldiers now complete in Vashtan's/director's cut version

I was pretty busy recently with new releases, but I'm happy to announce that both paperbacks of "Special Forces: Soldiers", which I wrote as "Vashtan" are now available at Lulu.

Here are the covers, done by Clerah Jai:






Get part 1 here, and part 2 here.

I've also all but finished "To Catch a Spy", which needs one scene added and then we have a second draft which I'll polish into something that publishers might want to see. Looking good on the creativity front.

Three kinds of motivation

I went to a writers' meeting yesterday in London (poor people had to listen to me gloat... but I'm just riding high on adrenaline at the moment, adrenaline, too little sleep, and lots of coffee).

According to a fellow writer who's also working in management consulting, there are three kinds of motivation: Achievement, Power, and Social. Social writers are the people that meet up and write together - the famous "write-ins" of NaNoWriMo. Power are the control people, those that get blocked when stuff gets out of control and those that try and have full control over themselves and their writing (three of the five people that showed up yesterday were mostly Power-motivated).

The last category, Achievement, is me down to a T. Nothing motivates me as much as getting stuff done, getting reviews, selling stuff - but the achievement is still largely internal. Even if I wouldn't sell anything, I'd still write, just for the rush of it. I believe Achievement types have the most fun in writing - we always win in this game. If we sell, great, if we don't, who cares (yes, it's nice, and I enjoy the business of it, but it's not my main motivator...not even close).

I've once met a 100% Power-motivated writer, and she was frankly near-neurotic with the need to control not only story and the characters, but also where people talk about it and what people think about it. I thought that was a bit weird, because you honestly can't chase up every reader who ever read your stuff and try to control THEM (she still tried, mind you).

I'm happy for stuff to be just out there, and if people hate it, fair 'nuff, that's their opinion.

In the end, that's far more relaxing, and like any martial artist can tell you, being relaxed is the best way to face a challenge. That includes writing.

Fear is, after all, the mind-killer, the little death. (in Frank Herbert's immortal words)

I can be nervous, and I tense up sometimes when I realise that I'm not good enough a writer to tackle a certain issue - that I cannot possibly do justice to the material I have. But I can try, and embrace the challenge, and try to get as close to it as possible. I have to let it come to me, and then be faithful to the material. Controlling the material is pointless. I have to let it flow through me... some of my best writing happens when I'm not in control, when I just trust the story to take me where it needs to go. And the rush when I get it "right" and when I've stretched my limits... that's the best ever. It's totally about achievement.

First review

Erotic Horizons has beaten everybody else to the first review of "Burn".

See the review and a short interview here.

Yay!

NOT stalking review sites

I'm NOT stalking review sites for review of "Echoes of the Future". I'm not, and I won't. Checking in three times a day is hardly "stalking", and, besides, somebody has to make sure the cover isn't accidentally deleted in the database. These things can happen and they would be inconvenient to the readers. Really.

I'm not checking the time every ten minutes because at 17:00 the Erotic Horizons blog will post about "Burn".

Oh, the impatience.

I mean, obviously I think "Echoes" absolutely rocks, but I would very much like to see if I'm right. :)

Laughter in the workplace

It's rare these days, I give them that. Over the last months, laughter here has developed notes of cynicism, jadedness and downright hostility. The top people tell us something, we laugh. It beats crying.

Today, I got co-opted to do an "Online Writing" course. For whatever ludicrous reasons, my boss' boss signed me up for it (I didn't get a choice) to listen for a good three hours to some person talking about social media and how we journalists are becoming the brand. (Also, how great Twitter is - no, it's just noise. All my writer friends are leaving it behind for Facebook - a much better structured conversation and you get less spam bots. Try it)

Newsflash, baby, I know more about social media than anybody else on the team and most likely the whole company. My whole writing gig is based on using the "tricks" that this guy brushed today... dishing it out like his knowledge of 2-3 years ago actually means anything these days. One big topic was search engine optimisation - or SEO - funny, how my writer page is hit number one when I type my name into Google - and this company doesn't even make it onto the first fifty pages... clearly, they are the right people to teach me! /snerk.

One quote took the cake: "As journalists are becoming an integral part of the brand, we can't afford to lose them, so we'll have to pay them more to retain them - think about it!" (with that finger-wagging tone of "you bitches don't work hard enough, MAKE US MORE MONEY!")

Very funny, I'm working on a team of nine, which only has three bodies left, and those wish DESPERATELY they were somewhere else. We're all the "faces" of our respective magazines and brands, we put ourselves out there, we have all the guys in the industry in our rolodexes, I talk to heads of banking and investment teams and the absolute top lawyers in their fields every day. People know me at conferences.... but according to their logic, I'm not part of the brand, or they'd pay me more.

Instead, this company's whole business model relies on getting good people in, pay them a pittance, suck them dry, and these people run away screaming after two years tops, because they can make double what they make here anywhere else in the market. If the job market wasn't shot to shit, I'd have left here a year ago or more. And I actually have a hot lead with a different publishing company... so I'm really just biding my time and will leave here in an instant if offered any job at all that pays more and that I can stand.

What remains in the meantime?

Laughter.

The dazed muse

I was busy over the weekend (so much for any attempt to work out, sleep, and take care of myself). "Special Forces: Soldiers I" and "Special Forces: Soldiers II" are launched as of last night, and they have amazing covers by Clerah Jai (check her out at deviantart.com - and commission her before her rates sky-rocket... or even then :)

Over the last few days, I've done a thorough edit of "Risky Maneuvers" and "Clean Slate" (adding about 1-2k words to each of them), and been in contact with the editor who is handling "Don't Ask, Don't Tell", the co-written short story for MLR Press's "Illustrated Men", which was written three years ago. The editor did a really good job, almost no input from my side.

Apart from that, I've done very little else. The muse is sitting in a corner, rocking back and forth, softly crying "no more editing, please." They look WRETCHED when they are like that. Muses normally soar and flap their wings about all nervous and eager. Seeing them go catatonic with editing exhaustion is not pretty. I don't recommend it. I guess it's a feed problem. I'll give him some nice, gentle reading to make him happy.

I've been interviewed by the Erotic Horizons blog about "Burn" and look forward to the post later this week.

And thanks to my hard-rocking friends, I have several hot leads with literary agents (nothing beats a good network... nothing in the world, I'm amazed and humbled to receive so much support), one is so hot I'm polishing my current projects tonight and send them out. A prayer, good thought or just a "YAY!" would be appreciated. Thanks, guys, your support means everything.

And I got great compliments, too. I made another reader cry with "The Trick Is" (which Gileonnen and me wrote a while ago) and Raev said I make "pages bleed with emotion." They just do that! I'm not doing anything!

Nothing is as exhilarating as being at the top of your game as a writer (or very close to the top - I'd like to develop some more, and there's still plenty of room for improvement), having readers hunger for the next story (I feel like sending them all finished manuscripts just because they send me those fantastic emails...I don't want to make them wait!) and a network that rocks and bolsters me where I'm weak. I won't forget it. I never do.

"Special Forces: Soldiers" launch

After much editing and layouting pain, it's finally happened. "Special Forces: Soldiers Pt 1" is available in a not-for-profit paperback for all those who were annoyed at the typos and mistakes in the original version. I sure was.

The text follows the director's cut I've been working on. You can get the paperback here. I owe an enormous debt to Alison, for the fastest editing job in history, and Clerah Jai of Goodreads.com for the cover. I owe you guys.

I expect to launch the second book in short order.

All edited out

I have dealt with my editing pile, sorted one short story and "Risky Maneuvers" and "Clean Slate".

I'm just glad that Raev is dealing with the edit for "Blood Run Cold", because line-editing 192k words would be just a little more than I can cope with.

Instead of collapsing at my desk, which is tempting, I'll grab my sports bag now and go lift some weights. It's been too long, and my thoughts feel stale in my own head.

After that, I'll fix the last 3.5k words of "To Catch a Spy", work on compiling agent lists for ROI, answer emails, fix a few Special Forces typos, then order a bunch of books from Lulu, answer more emails, check on my forums and goodreads.

I was contacted by Erotic Horizons with questions regarding "Burn", so there are some reactions to it. A very critical friend told me the anthology has given them faith back in the m/m sci-fi genre. A couple friends mentioned favourite stories - one liked "Reversal" best, another "Conduit", so I think we have a nice, wide spread in this anthology, and no total duds in there. That was really my main aim - have an anthology where every story pulls its weight. I've been in too many compilations where really only one or two stories were any good. It's annoying for a writer, and it's even more annoying for a reader.

My brain needs to recharge after all this work - I've worked at capacity for the last weeks, and I look forward to relaxing a little and doing things that don't have anything to do with polishing text.

Soon. Now it's just TCaS. Maybe I'll even manage to really get work done on Iron Cross. After all, I only have six weeks for that one.

Spoils of War Giveaway & Aleks is going shopping for an agent

My colleague Ralph Gallagher (who just signed his first contract, whooHoo!) is hosting an e-book giveaway on his blog, the Dancing Dove here.

I've handed him "Spoils of War", which now has a fixed price at $1.79 - not because I didn't like "giving it away", but because I want the story to go global. And for that, it needs a fixed price or the global etailers won't sell it. A bitch, I know. So, I put the price towards the higher end of a short story, but towards the lower end of what I actually made on it.

So, if you want a free copy, comment on Ralph's blog.

After a chat with my colleague Jordan Taylor (who published in the excellent Hidden Conflict anthology by Cheyenne that I had the pleasure to review), I'm now psyching myself up to seek English-language agent representation. It freaks me out. I've landed two agents in Germany. One never did anything for me, the other is patiently hoping for me to write anything he can sell, while he keeps telling me how talented I am and that I'm getting better every year, but he just can't sell what I'm writing in Germany, and he doesn't have the network in the UK/US. He's a cheerleader more than an agent at this point, and I hope dearly to one day be able to give him something he can sell. After that many years, he really deserves it.

Part of me is terrified. I'm a non-native speaker, and I'm no Conrad, no Nabokov, or really any of those highly-gifted foreigners that take the English language by the horns and get it to do their bidding. And boy, it's a formidable wrestling partner.

But I'm starting to lose my German, and that means I can only cling to English for dear life, because, in a few years, I won't be bilingual anymore. It'll be English, and some broken German, and that's it. I'm losing the mother tongue. I can't express how terrifying it is to lose your language if you're a writer. It feels like you have to learn everything all over again.

And then I thought I could transfer it, but it doesn't work like that. It's a totally different system. Sentences that are beautiful and finely-wrought in German just fall apart in English. But then, English has a flexibility that can super-charge prose in ways that German can't.

Those of my friends who can read both my German and English writing tell me I have two different voices in either language. I'd have to check which one they like better, but, as I said, one voice is whithering away, and the other just has to compensate for the loss, but I always feel like I'm at a disadvantage to the native speakers of similar talent/calibre (and there are many, many of them). Competing for an agent with them is daunting, so I had decided that I didn't prioritise getting an agent, and prioritise the writing.

Well, with a rejected manuscript in my drawer that won't work with any publisher I'm currently involved with, I now have the luxury to go shopping for an agent. I know they are good, passionate, brilliant people, book lovers, but I'm scared witless, and my guts are tight and churning... I wish I could calm about stuff like this, because it will likely take me 2-3 years of my life to get one. All my agents and contacts were "accidents" so far. It's very unlikely I simply just encounter an agent and s/he takes me on, so I have to increase the chances of those accidents.

After this weekend, when I'll finish editing two stories (one is "Clean Slate"), I'll start shopping.

Agents, here I come.

The greatest cocktail in the world

No, the title is not a clever pun. Last night, my partner got plastered (i.e. piss-drunk) with people at work. Brokers sure know how to party. He returned with news about something that sounds like the best drink ever. The Vodka Espresso - he described it as half espresso (cold) and half vodka.

Now, I love vodka. A good vodka is like a well-aimed punch to whatever nerves you want to hit, and often, when I want to drink vodka, that's the brain. As the child of an alcoholic, I don't drink, and it takes me a year or two to finish a vodka bottle (usually Stolichnaya, but I've had an original Polish one in Polish letters that I can't possibly remember the name of). I loved the "KGB" (grenadine and vodka and other things), I tried the White and Black Russian (cream and vodka and coffee and vodka), and they were ok, but not my favourites. I do like the harder cocktails, the Mai Tai and the Zombie come to mind, and Caipirinha is just nice and refreshing.

Anything with vodka or rum has my vote. At home, we sometimes make the Moscow Mule (vodka and ginger beer) or the Mango Screwdriver, which is our take on the Screwdriver (normally orange juice and vodka, but we use orange/mango juice).

Coffee, in our house, sometimes comes with Bailey's (there's a mint version that works really well), but usually, on those Saturday evenings when my brain is tensed up and I can't write and I believe anything I'll write is going to be crap, I'll have a Mango Screwdriver or a Moscow Mule and get to it. It's not about getting drunk, just taking off the most jagged edges of doubt and blockage.

I had a friend (also child of alcoholics) who asked me: "How can you drink that poison? You know what it's like!"

But I think that it's a very different thing to have one cocktail every month or so, or sit, like my father, in his kitchen, going through 12-20 bottles of beer every day, when drinking is automated like breathing. If I'm miserable, I punch shit, I never reach for the bottle. I may have addicts' genes, but I also have the genes of a rapist and a wife-beater, and I've never raped or beaten up anybody (addition: who didn't attack me first).

So, yes. Vodka espresso sounds like the best thing ever. And after this week at work, I do want to deliver a good punch straight to my brain. After work, I'll find a cocktail bar or go home, take the vodka out of the freezer, brew a good strong Ethiopian Arabica espresso, and add this one to my collection.

The Crazy

Work is crazy, nothing new there. It's the type of "crazy" that verges into "insanity" and "OMG, I WANT TO BE OUT OF HERE". It's lovely to know that the workload is organized (ha!) in such a way to really accommodate the fact that some people are leaving, we're half-strength, and people go on holiday and are sick. Out of a team of nine, we're down to three, and the boss lady had the nerve to all but call me lazy in an email (gee, thanks, boss lady, what a way to rally the three troops still manning that fort you're running). I don't understand how people with no people skills whatsoever get put in charge of human beings. I guess all you have to be able to do is jockey that Excel sheet. Nevermind.

Last night, I got 6 hours of sleep. Still not enough to catch up, not nearly enough to rest my sore brain, but I'm actually doing OK (enormous cappuccino has something to do with it). Yesterday, I had a freaky encounter on a London bus. Before you yawn, picture this: full bus, one seat left. Aleks, unable to edit while standing up, makes a dash for it and squeezes past a woman/girl. Nothing more than what kind of brushing is inevitable if people aren't exactly small and buses are designed for dolls rather than people. Sitting down and settling in to work, the girl (grey coat, stocky, shorter than me, black hair pulled so tight back that it showed off how the hair in her neck was getting patchy, face like a young bullhound) keeps budging into me, and increasingly aggressively. Now, I was brought up to be the "gentle giant" and only use my size and strength in self-defense. So I put on my ear phones and ignore her, but she kept doing it, and then half-turned to shoot me a baleful, hateful look.

Out come the ear plugs, I open my mouth, the girl shouts at me "STOP PUSHING ME! HE KEEPS PUSHING ME!" Baring a golden front tooth, her eyes stone cold psychotic. I've never seen a look like that in my life. Not once, and I've been in a couple nasty confrontations. She wasn't even *there*, all my instincts kicked in and I very coldly thought about the odds to stop the little blocky bitch if she attacked me - cramped surroundings, manuscript on my lap, already adrenaline pounding through her system, while my body's frozen in the decision whether to fight or flight. Split-second. Body says "yes, you can take her, but you'll get messed up", mind says "she got that gold tooth from another fight, women that age don't have fake front teeth unless they were knocked/kicked out", and then "she'll hit you in the face, that's all she can comfortably reach in that position, and your left hand is on the far side", and I'd have hated to gather up 70 pages of scattered manuscript while fighting a woman who was clearly out of her mind and built like a London-sized brick shit house.

So I got up, while she kept shouting, now at other people (I think I heard "calm down") and me, muttering "bus full of people, and I sit down near a psychotic druggie" and went to the upper deck, editing my manuscript. She cringed away from me as if I was going to hit her (and I thought "who's hit her so much that that is her natural response when somebody walks past?").

But that *stare*, that soul-less "I've been taken over by an alien life form that hates EVERYTHING* stare was a moment of pure horror. I was rattled for hours afterwards. That's the stare of somebody who'd kill her own child in a rage.

I know now the best response would have been saying something like "sorry you're having a bad day" from a safe distance and leave it at that. Calling her a psychotic druggie might not be nice, but hell on a stick, that was freaky.

On a more amusing note (and I struggle to think what's less amusing), everything happens in waves. Three days ago, we got the errata for "Blood Run Cold" (it's 499 pages, gods help us). Yesterday, we got the edits of "Clean Slate", and five hours later, "Risky Maneuvers" arrived in my inbox. Invariably, all of them, are hard work to fix and will take a few days. All of them arrived with a note saying "please send back in a week". Uhm.

Now, Raev is doing "Blood Run Cold" - while writing her thesis, Barbara (hopefully) will tackle "Risky Maneuvers" and I'm tackling "Clean Slate". Obviously I'm going to look at the others, too, so that means I'll have a mad!crazy editing week on top of running my writing workshop and relentless stress at my bread job. And, oh yeah, I got another story back with "send back in a week" for a project that's been going on forever (read: years rather than months). The gods are having a laugh.

Yesterday, I started compiling a list of publishers for me financial novel (it's subbed, but I like to have a few people in reserve). The list has 20 positions, I'll try and expand it further.

All on too little sleep. I must be mad that I wouldn't want to change my life for the world.

Strategy is half the battle

At the moment I'm losing too much sleep. There's this relentless roiling inside my mind that just doesn't stop, and it's the third night in a row I only had 5 hrs of sleep. I'm not sure how I'm holding onto complex thoughts, but I find it difficult to think clearly. I'm not reading, because I can't concentrate.

I'm not writing, because dito. I have a long list of stuff that needs doing, stuff that's promised and stuff I want to do, but I don't have the clarity or headspace. Work at the day job is torturous at the moment (we're down to 50% staff and expected to work 120%), I guess I'm losing sleep over that and the pressure of getting TCaS done.

It didn't help to see how bad, still, the "second draft" is and that attempting to sell that anywhere will only mean a bloodied nose. It's not done. This needs another 2-3 months, probably around 3, before I can even consider sending it in. Editing a chapter per week seems attainable. But I have three other books lined up that are messing with my brain (what's left of it), and I think I really just need a holiday and a new job. Iron Cross has a deadline I can't break. I can't let go of TCaS because if I do, I might never pick it up again. I have something like a momentum after wanting to kick it in the trash at least twice every week.

In addition, I'm aware that the other book I'm shopping around after receiving a nonsensical rejection email from a publisher needs the help of an accomplished, very experienced editor that actually, really, gets the book, is willing to take a risk and really, really becomes a partner on this. I'm not sure I know that person yet (I know terrific editors, but I don't think the book's right for their houses - or even in the right language), and I'm not sure which complete stranger would actually invest in a book like that. I have a raw diamond, but what I need is guidance on how to cut it.

Why do I end up with the difficult books? Can't I just "find" some cookie-cutter mindless normal romance stuff that doesn't require anybody taking any risks? Why does this writing thing have to be so bloody hard?

But, coming back to the title of the blog post, I think I now need to sit down and work on a strategy - where to put what and in what order. Think things through, relax, and let some things simply happen. It'll save me energy and strength in the long run.

Politics

Least favourite thing about writing? The backbiting and the intrigue among writers.

I wish we could all just write books and do nothing else. No promo-ing with gritted teeth, no "reputation management", no circle-jerking, just the writing itself.

It would be bliss.

/opinion.

Behold the Awesome

I bring you the cover of "Clean Slate", which I co-wrote with Barbara Sheridan and which will come out with Dreamspinner Press fairly soon. It's been custom-made by Paul Richmond, who went for a "seventies James Bond pulp feel over more naturalistic colours." I'm in love and may have to civil partnership this cover. Click to enlarge.

And now for something pleasant

I reviewed "Day 94", an interesting horror debut by D M Slate over at Kiki Howell's blog.

Long story short, I like lots for the raw tension of that text and found it kept me on the edge of my seat. If you want a short, intense horror read, you're not going wrong there.

And now I'll tackle TCaS, chapter 13. Nothing like rejection to get the muse going. It's funny how rejection never make me think "oh noes, I'm unworthy" but rather "those bloody fools!" - I guess my megalomania is worst when it gets prodded by a reviewer or editor. But I'm the same in a fight. Punch me in the nose and I go berserk. The good part of that is that I've long learnt that I can trust that energy. It gets me through just about anything.

Now going to finish the novel that I WILL sell.

Towards the end of the long weekend

Just went through the file of "Echos of the Future" one more time, and will have to update the website later today. Looking forward to that, actually, updating about new releases it always fun, linking to fellow writers and posting excerpts and sending stuff to reviewers. I really don't mind that.

I received the cover for "Clean Slate" and it's fantastic. Paul Richmond has done an excellent job putting the story into one image, and the cover looks like one of those seventies James Bond novels. I may or may not have run around the flat going "oh hell yeah! Hell yeah! Whooot!" when I saw it. In my defense, I've lived on "To Catch A Spy" and caffeine over the last three days, so I may be a little high-strung. Or what do you call an Andalusian fighting bull chased around the arena by a funny little man in a glittery tight-ass suit?

I bought my favourite tracks by Disturbed ("Deify" is just excellent), and Niyaz' whole "Nine Heavens" album, topped off with some A Perfect Circle ("Dropping Bodies Like Sheep") and Faith and the Muse ("Nine Dragons", "Cantus"), which have been my soundtrack of rewriting "To Catch a Spy". After this very long weekend, I'm now on chapter 13, with 15k words left to do.

I received a rejection letter and kicked the manuscript in question back out of the door - it's all about "keeping them in the post", isn't it?

One winner drawn

The first copy of "Test of Faith" went to Diana... now we'll just have to post it. Congratulations, we hope you enjoy it!

I'll draw the winner of the second copy from everybody commenting on this blog post.

But first I'll go to London and meet a friend and give "Burn" another polish before it comes out on, er, Monday. (Wow, that time passed really quickly this time). I'll be giving away copies of "Echoes of the Future" to people on the mailinglist and at a separate book-giveaway post on this blog, so keep your eyes open. :)

And then, very soon, I'll be sending out reviewer copies of "Test of Faith", which comes out in 2 months.

I still have a few chapters of TCaS to fix, so that's what I'll be doing tonight and tomorrow and Monday. Maybe I'll even make that self-imposed deadline for those spies on Tuesday. Should be quite a race.

I'm now with Dreamspinner

I'm now with Dreamspinner, quite literally so. Today, my biography went online with them here.

Today's the first day of my 4-day working weekend, and so far I have done nothing (okay, I caught up on sleep). I'm off to town to have breakfast at some cafe, pretending I'm a lazy creative type sipping latte while scribbling in his notebook. I have to pick up an official letter from the post office (I dare not hope it's the house contract, but I'm nervous), buy some bits and pieces - like food - and plan to get an iTunes card to go shopping for music... I know my 3k tracks on my iPod by heart now, and I'll call it a reward for all my hard work the last... months.

Also, I've been listening to a lot of these tracks in youtube, and it's time to buy them - if I want my royalties as a writer, I think the musicians would appreciate theirs. And it will be great to have those tracks at work, too.

Another thing I'll do is get more paper - I've seen an offer for 5 reams at £10, that should last me through a couple novels at least. Looks like I'm producing enough to make that worthwhile.

And finally, an apology - did plan to do the book giveaway on 1 March,. today is the 5th. Ooops. So let's do that again. I'll put a list of entries together tomorrow and draw the winner.

If you want a "Test of Faith" paper copy signed by both authors, I'm giving away two: one to one member of my mailing list (subscribe here), and one to a commenter on this blog post.

(Of course you can both comment and join the mailinglist to double your chances :) )

To Catch a Spy - the finishing sprint

While work is being "interesting" (all senses of the word, including Chinese proverb), life is being good. Looks like we'll get the house, in the end, but I'm not making any announcements before it has happened. But eight months is a long time to wait for anything.

I'm in the "hot phase" of "To Catch a Spy" now - almost all other creativity has ceased, I'm totally inside that story now and can't think one clear thought that's not connected to that story in some fashion. It's getting really bad - up to the point that people who've met me and watched me during one of those hot phases asked me whether I'm on the autistic spectrum. That's entirely possible, but it's a good thing during writing. Single-mindedness really helps with not going insane. It also heightens my concentration. I'm often all over the place, but when I can see the finish line, I get tunnel vision and do nothing else. Think nothing else. Care about nothing else.

Because I know this will happen, and I can smell the end now, I'm taking Friday and Monday off work and plan to do one gigantic push over the four-day weekend. I have 57k of To Catch a Spy in second draft, and there are about 30k outstanding. With edits, cuts, some added scenes, I expect it to come out around 85k in the end, so proper-sized novel. I can edit 5-10k of text per day, so 4 days of extended weekend should get me to the finish line in TCaS. At which point it'll cool, go out to betas/critique partners, and by then my agent, to whom I pitched this, might have come back to me with ideas for it.

Iron Cross got some work done yesterday (mostly notes from the book and changes and some fine tuning in my outline), but "Lion of Kent" is now with Kate Cotoner. The concentration and time isn't there to pull my weight on that one. I can either scatter my resources - which drives me insane and makes me irritated in the hot phase - or close my eyes and push through, whatever the cost. Next Tuesday, I will have a novel, whatever happens. Chapters 9, 10 and 11 are outlined, I'll sort those today and tomorrow in all likelihood. Then I need to gather strength and emotional energy for the grand finale, which will be a much more painful affair than it was in first draft.

I received the cover sketch for "Clean Slate" from Dreamspinner. Dreamspinner is being amazing about it all, they hired Paul Richmond to do the cover. We loved his work for "Zero at the Bone", and he nailed "Clean Slate" with his sketch. I'm very chuffed and can't wait to see the finished version.

I was recently asked how I plot. What I say is "somebody wants something very much, and then I ruin their day".

The same holds true for TCaS - I'm now off to ruin the three spies' days. I expect to report completion on Tuesday.

Chapters in adversity

Yesterday I was very productive at lunch, fixed chapter 6 of TCaS, and then went home, did my creative writing workshop feedback/work, did changes on chapter 7, and started on chapter 8. Chapter 8 of TCaS is still a mess, and will likely take me two days, and then the pacing needs fixing, but at least the spy plot is now much stronger. Still not ideal, but I'll whip this into enough shape to inflict on test readers and critque partners.

Made more notes and fine outlining on Iron Cross.

And my house thing might finally go through, which will cost me weeks of creativity, no doubt. That's going to be the largest project I've ever had, and so much work to do that I'm not sure I have the headspace to do much else. But nothing's signed yet, so I'll fret about that when it happens.

I'll still try. But my birthday (usual deadline) is getting closer very very fast indeed. Who said he thrived under pressure?

Joys of the working writer

No, I'm not making this shit up. There *are* joys to being a working writer. You get to pay your bills and have a steady cash flow. You tend to be able to afford buying books for research even if the last royalty cheque was 5 months ago.

I also believe that having this big fat slice of my day taken away - during which I do a lot of nonsensical stuff and struggle with the same shit as everybody else - focuses my attention. If I have a long, unstructured day in front of me, i'm more likely to fritter it away. If I know I only have 3 hrs/day to Get Stuff Done, I get it done. I make use of every minute.

While I did organize my manuscripts for TCaS and IC on the weekend, yesterday was more productive than Saturday or Sunday. I read all of TCaS on the train on Monday, during lunch, and on the way home, then arrived home, rearranged chapter 6 in TCaS and wrote 1,200 words of new scene, then organized work for today and fell into bed.

Today, on the bus, I took what will be the new chapter 6 and made notes for the rewrite. And I don't care what the banker next to me thought as I broke down the structure of a hot m/m/f threesome. You peek at my manuscripts at your own risk. So, yeah, during lunch, I'll implement those changes (or at least start with it), and finish up tonight at home. Then I'll prepare the next bit of text to work through on my commute tomorrow.

I think TCaS could be done in the next two weeks - or at least incarnated into a second draft I'd be happy to show a couple people. It might need cutting and tweaking and maybe the spy plot still sucks, but every incarnation sucks a little less.

I'm making notes for Iron Cross and what to fix. I'm writing a few bits here and there, a paragraph at a time, ideas and structures. Mostly, my brain is hard at work to "pre-write" the second third. There are several holes in there and I need to work out how David spends his time towards the middle of the book. I have a few ideas, but I have to think them through. I do think once TCaS is in second draft and "cooling" before the final polish, I'll be much more productive on that front. Two novels at the same time is just bloody hard work.

In good news, I'll take Friday and Monday off work so I can, maybe, get TCaS all but finished. I get the feeling all it takes now is a mad, sleepless dash fuelled on coffee and sheer adrenaline. The text is there, it just needs tweaking. If I get four days of hard, focused work in, I might make... or at least fix the four chapters (previously known as chapter 6) that are giving me so much grief.

"Stealing my Heart" anthology & interview

I have no doubt that the anthology will show up on pirating sites (or already has), but despite that bitter irony, I think it's a cause well worth supporting.

Elisa Rolle has the details on the release and an interview with the editor here.

It's an interesting read, and kudos to Manly for calm, clear, and true answers to the questions. No foaming at the mouth, no fits of rage. Good stuff.

On a side note, it feels like spring is there. I found myself blink at the first rays of sun in what feels like six months. There is a small upbeat feeling in the air. Spring in this Victorian concrete hell. Spring, and light, gathering strength again after way too long.

I've taken the manuscript for "To Catch a Spy" with me to work today, hoping to make some notes and re-arrange things. The real issue is chapter 6, which, by the grace of editing and reworking, will turn into chapters 6, 7, 8 and 9, most likely.

Tonight, I'll do my 800 words of Iron Cross. I can write the rest of that book in 2 months.