Things have been quiet on the blog for front for a few months. One might assume that this means I haven’t been doing any writing. This is not entirely true. Between the start of October and the end of December I bashed out eleven and a half thousand words for an open submission. January and February were then spent not doing any writing, as I was consumed by the nervous and uncertain energy of “waiting.” In the end the piece wasn’t accepted for publication, but I’m still inordinately pleased with myself that I actually tried.
With the waiting out-of-the-way I got back to working on one of my pet projects. Gayane Al-Taftazânî and her associate Almund Skeete have made their inevitable return. The stories in and around their strange futuristic world now run in excess of fifteen thousand words, so I thought it high time to give the collection a name: The She That Wanders Cycle. Below is part 4 of Gayane and Al’s personal adventure “On a Bright Angel’s Wings.” As ever, it was an uncomplicated joy to write. I hope you enjoy it.
Image by Tebe Interesno
Things have been quite quiet on the blog front here at Verbumancer Towers. This is because I has been away being industrious. For the past several months I have been slowly editing, proof-reading, type-setting, and generally tweaking my pictonaut wordascope back-catalogue. Last month, without much fanfare I released the results of my work into the wild.
“Exercises in Verbumancy” is a short story anthology which contains all 42 of my original wordascopes covering September 2011 until February 2015, as well as 2 bonus stories which were also posted here during that time. That is a grand total of 44 short stories, weighing in at 60,590 words, and it is yours to download at Smashwords.com for no cost. That’s right, I am literally giving my work away. You will be charged nothing. No money shall leave your possession. It’s free. Devoid of cost. I will receive no remuneration. It is yours to take or not take as you see fit.
I͕͖̘͔̩̩̖T͚̼̜̬͙͈͆̽̇̽ͅ ͉̣͕̽̓I̜̤̤͎̗͋ͧ̂S̻͔̦͉̻̪̓̍ ͈ͪ̑̒̏ͦ͋̚F͇͚̽̍ͪRÈ̲̮̦͙E̦̹ͫ͊ͤ̊ͫ̅͒
I would be filled with sunshine and rainbows if you could download it and have a read. I would also appreciate reviews and comments (it can also be found on Goodreads) even if said reviews are “John, what are you even doing? What the fuck is this shit? – 0 stars.” Obviously I’d prefer it if everyone enjoyed it and thought it was wonderful. (I mean, if I don’t hate it, it can’t be all bad.) But everyone has their own tastes and opinions. Even if they are objectively wrong! (I’m really proud of my book, okay?)
At this precise moment I am probably somewhere in the deepest, darkest Cotswolds, valiantly trying not to melt. June is rapidly drawing to a close and Summer has finally realised just how late it was running for work. It has been a while since I produced any new word based content for you to devour or ignore. This is a fact which my friend the Lady Tonksington Smythe did not fail to highlight. She requested that June be a month in which I got off my lazy-ass and actually wrote something again. I have used this gentle needling as an excuse to add 1,800 words to a short story which had been sitting unloved, and unfinished in my writer’s trunk for about a year. It represents the 4th instalment in what has accidentally become an eight and a half thousand words long series.
It joins The Starwatcher, the stand-alone piece Orange, and follows directly on from the end of The Watcher of Stars. It sees the (almost inevitable) return of the mysterious Gayane Al-Taftazânî, her hapless friend Almund Skeete, and the strange, wondrous science-fiction world they inhabit. The series was initially based on the famous “Starwatcher” image by the late Jean “Moebius” Giraud, but has since rapidly taken on a life of its own. This is the piece I cryptically hinted at two weeks ago, and it was a true joy to write and I adore every last bit of it. I hope you do too.
How quickly January has gone. The passage of time continues to confuse and mystify me. I mean, how can January be over already? Where’s all that time gone? It’s relentless, it never pauses for rest of respite, it just keeps on coming; an unstoppable temporal juggernaut. But gone it has, and the dawn of February will soon be upon us. Tradition dictates that I now talk about the weather. There has been a lot of snow. Most of north-east of America was recently buried under numerous feet of snow. The same is also true for the United Kingdom. Except where I live. I didn’t get any snow. I’m feeling quite bitter about this if I’m honest. I like snow.
If like me you feel betrayed by the weather, please feel free to assuage your sorrows with some short stories.
The New Year is upon us, and with it comes the advent of new beginnings, of something fresh, vital, brimming with raw potentiality and the opportunities for outrageous shenanigans. But most of all the air is filled with the smell of hope. It smells of soap, and mint and freshly baked bread. The hope that maybe this year will be better than the last, or the hope that we’ll finally get round to doing that thing we’ve been meaning to do for years, or perhaps that this will be the year you “finally get your shit together.” A new year is ever a time of strange, unexplored frontiers and of terrifying unknowns. So strap on your sturdiest boots and prepare to venture into the land Beneath a Square Sun.
It’s time to shut it down, pack it up and box it away. 2014 is done and finished. Christmas is over and there remains only the hurdle of new year’s eve before it is finally over. For better or worse, 2014 happened. There were highs and there were lows. But regardless of a geopolitical shitstorm(s) threatening to swallow us all, I remain resolutely alive. Any day above ground is a good day. I have recently returned from a brief sojourn to the frozen north and once again masterfully avoided the yearly rail meltdown. December has left me tired, strung-out and worn-down. Because that is how December rolls. Yet despite this, there is as always, stories to be told.