Long Time No Blog!

I thought that you might like to see the cover for my book The Weave – yes I know my Facebook followers have already seen it but it doesn’t hurt to remind you! Hope you like it. Should be out in November.

the weave (1)

However, I could really do with some feedback about the proposed ‘blurb’ to go on the back cover. Bit of a cheek I know considering I’ve had six months away from the blog but sometimes life just gets in the way. Anyhow, this is the proposed wording. It was harder to write than the book itself and this is the fourth version.

1598: When Oskar, Comte de Tréville asks the witch Ombrine to save the life of his son, she demands a high price. Oskar must leave his family and his lands and travel with her, as a servant, to Barbaria in search of the deadly Amerello spiders.

On his return to France five years later Oskar finds he is wanted for the murder of his wife. Unable to prove his innocence he allies himself with Ombrine who persuades him to take the Jouance – a life-prolonging drug made from the venom of the Amerellos.

He and Ombrine embark on a career of crime using Ombrine’s witchcraft and her Szellem – creatures called up from the dead.

Three centuries later, Oskar, now wealthy and leisured uncovers the truth about the fate of his family and has only one remaining ambition – to exact a long slow revenge.

2013: Debut author Richard Pease suffers from writer’s block. He is also broke and bedevilled by fears of his own inadequacy. He has just six weeks to complete his second book or lose his publishing contract.

A chance encounter with Oskar takes Richard to the Nonesuch Club, a writer’s retreat in France run by Oskar and Ombrine. There he finds the block to finishing his book lifts.

The mysterious disappearance of a fellow club member and the discovery of a drug laboratory in the Club plunge Richard into a centuries-old tangled web of deceit leaving him not only fighting for his career but also for his life.

So what do you think? If you saw the cover and read the blurb in a bookshop or on-line would you rush to buy or give a great big yawn and move on?

All ideas, suggestions, yah-boo-it-sucks welcome. Leave a comment below and thank you.

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What a Fantastic Tale!

Many many years ago in a land far, far away a young writling attended big school. There she came under the tutelage of Miss Grey (unrelated to Mr Grey and his Shades). By day Miss Grey impressed on her young apprentices the necessity of punctuation, spelling and grammar. By night she played the violin and made cocoa before bedtime.

On special occasions, she permitted her young charges to practise the art of composition. She gathered them around her, watching their little faces for signs of instransigence or rebellion and flourished her magic stylus (aka chalk) to conjure up the Special Inscription – a rule of such goldenness that to infringe it would bring the world as we know it to an hideous end or at the very least invoke detention and a hundred lines for those miscreants who dared infract it.

And the words of The Special Inscription were:

“WRITE ABOUT THAT WHICH THOU KNOWEST”

But the young writlings, flush with the arrogance of youth, thought they knew everything anyway…so no problemo maestra. They constructed tales of derring-do, with elves, witches, wizards and flesh-eating monsters with nasty little pointy teeth. Their heros (it was an all-female big school) quested, sought, snuffled out and just plain found the key to the universe and lived happily ever after.

“This will not do” quoth Miss Grey “From now until the end of break time, you will confine yourself to adjectives, adverbs and gerunds.”

Eventually, in time-honoured, weather-worn and cliche-laden fashion, the apprentices were released from the care of their nurslings and dispatched to the four corners of the known world to make their way in life. Most were selected for higher training in the dark arts; the rest became fodder for the bureaucratic machinery of the land – i.e. clerks and secretaries.

One such female writling shuffled papers by day and by night, imbued heavy doses of magic pictures on the magic picture box. However, one night, a raven tumbled down the chimney and croaked (with a minor speech impediment):

“Why wasteth thou thy life in thuch a manner, young writling? Thine orbs taketh on a thquare shape and glathy hue. Isth there nothing thou canst do of more profit to thine self?”

The young writling, suitably chastened and ashamed replied:

“oh thou glossy black raven. I wouldst fain practise the art of the wordsmith yet how can I? Meastra Grey shewed me the Special Inscription – “WRITE ABOUT THAT WHICH THOU KNOWEST”

“Bah humbug – tha knows nowt anyroad” croaked the Raven, now transmogrified into a gruff Yorkshireman, “WRITE ABAHT WOT INTERESTS YER and bugger t’Special Inscription.”

And so, the writling followed the advice of the Raven and lived happily ever after…well almost

(Apologies to all Fantasy writers everywhere – as you can easily surmise, I’m not your competition, please don’t turn me into a toad)

Have a good weekend everyone – I’m off until Monday.