Time

I hear myself say, "I don't really have the time, sorry," quite often. Since I'm sitting in the middle of a pretty decadent Saturday afternoon scene right now -- one barefoot mancub playing trains while his younger counterpart watches In The Night Garden during the day with his welly boots on -- and I am being ignored for the time being, I guess I have a few moments to analyse that.

I currently work full-time. My job requires I put in a 36-hour week if I'm not taking advantage of decent annual leave and flexi-time. For this exercise, we'll stick with a standard week. I take half an hour for lunch most days. So I give 38.5 hours to the place during a normal week.

I live an hour away, so that's a two-hour return commute over fives days. 10 more hours.

My kids require attention (not complaining -- stating a fact), so lets say that I can't concentrate on anything but them (based on their bed time, but it can vary due to sickness, insomnia or a bit of messing about) for at least three hours a day, on a week day. That's 15 hours.

On a typical week day, I sleep for five or six hours. Call it about 30 hours from Monday to Friday.

I get my exercise at a local boxing club three nights a week. With travel time, that's about six hours.

I'm married and enjoy spending time with my wife (don't raise your eyebrows, some of us do). Maybe two or three hours a night. call that 15 hours.

So:

38.5 + 10 + 15 + 30 + 6  + 15 = 114.5 hours.

Hours in those days:

24 X 5 = 120

It looks like I have 5.5 hours to play with during a working week. In that time I write, read, edit, spend time online, watch a bit of telly or a decent movie. Sure, I can do some of that with my wife and/or the kids, but not all of it. Not by a long stretch.

Moral of this post? I guess I do have time. Just don't expect me to be pleasant if you steal some of it. You're either eating in to my family time or sleep time. And thank God for the weekend! But that's for me, my family and my close friends. Don't ask me what I do with those 48 hours. I'm likely to tell you it's none of your feckin' business.

Love y'all lots like jelly tots.

What's THE POINT of this Competition?

The winner of this contest has been chosen and contacted. Thanks to all who had a punt.

Right, you beautiful people. I'm feeling a little needy and neglected today so I'm going to invite you all to enter a wee competition that'll hopefully cure me of my self-pity.

I want more Amazon reviews, most preferably a 20th 5-star review for WEE ROCKETS on Amazon UK, but I'll gratefully accept anything you're willing to give me. So, review any of my books on Amazon UK or Amazon US (or both!) between now and Friday 15th March 2013 at 23:59 GMT, and I'll enter you into a draw for a signed copy of the paperback version of THE POINT.

You up for it?

I hope so. It'll be embarrassing if nobody enters.

Of course, I'm no stranger to embarrassment.

But I keep setting myself up for it.

The Sweety Bottle -- Coming VERY soon!

Belfast in the 1970s. At the rear of Brennan’s sweet shop, a popular ‘shebeen’ is in full swing. This secret drinking den is a place where punters come to escape the troubles around them and to exorcise their own personal demons.

Through the many huge characters and calamitous incidents, we embark on a voyage to an era where the city and its people never ceased to find humour in even the darkest of times.

A hilariously nostalgic trip down memory lane, ‘The Sweety Bottle’ is sure to have you crying with laughter as we remember everything that was good about Belfast during the rare auld times.

Directed by Tony Devlin

Written by Joe Brennan and Gerard Brennan

Starring Marty Maguire, Carol Moore, Lalor Roddy, Gordon Fulton, Gerard Jordan and Ciaran Nolan

The tour is starting next week! Check the Brassneck Theatre Company website for tour dates.
 

Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats

Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats : The Poetry Foundation

My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains

         My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,

Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains

         One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:

'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,

         But being too happy in thine happiness,—

                That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees

                        In some melodious plot

         Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,

                Singest of summer in full-throated ease.

O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been

         Cool'd a long age in the deep-delved earth,

Tasting of Flora and the country green,

         Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth!

O for a beaker full of the warm South,

         Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene,

                With beaded bubbles winking at the brim,

                        And purple-stained mouth;

         That I might drink, and leave the world unseen,

                And with thee fade away into the forest dim:

Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget

         What thou among the leaves hast never known,

The weariness, the fever, and the fret

         Here, where men sit and hear each other groan;

Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs,

         Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies;

                Where but to think is to be full of sorrow

                        And leaden-eyed despairs,

         Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes,

                Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.

Away! away! for I will fly to thee,

         Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards,

But on the viewless wings of Poesy,

         Though the dull brain perplexes and retards:

Already with thee! tender is the night,

         And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne,

                Cluster'd around by all her starry Fays;

                        But here there is no light,

         Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown

                Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.

I cannot see what flowers are at my feet,

         Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs,

But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet

         Wherewith the seasonable month endows

The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild;

         White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine;

                Fast fading violets cover'd up in leaves;

                        And mid-May's eldest child,

         The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine,

                The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.

Darkling I listen; and, for many a time

         I have been half in love with easeful Death,

Call'd him soft names in many a mused rhyme,

         To take into the air my quiet breath;

                Now more than ever seems it rich to die,

         To cease upon the midnight with no pain,

                While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad

                        In such an ecstasy!

         Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain—

                   To thy high requiem become a sod.

Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird!

         No hungry generations tread thee down;

The voice I hear this passing night was heard

         In ancient days by emperor and clown:

Perhaps the self-same song that found a path

         Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home,

                She stood in tears amid the alien corn;

                        The same that oft-times hath

         Charm'd magic casements, opening on the foam

                Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.

Forlorn! the very word is like a bell

         To toll me back from thee to my sole self!

Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well

         As she is fam'd to do, deceiving elf.

Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades

         Past the near meadows, over the still stream,

                Up the hill-side; and now 'tis buried deep

                        In the next valley-glades:

         Was it a vision, or a waking dream?

                Fled is that music:—Do I wake or sleep?

The Next Big Thing!

I’ve been tagged in this blog hop thing four or five times now but it keeps getting put on the backburner. Got a lot on my mind these days and quite a few projects on the go. Too many maybes to go into it all properly so I’ll not bore you with the details. But today I took a wee bit of time to fill out this meme-type questionnaire and get rid of the vague guilt that ignoring the tags has created.

Being the rebel that I am, I’ve decided to break one of the rules. Rather than tag anybody else, I figure I’d point you towards some of the fine people who thought of me when they filled this out for themselves.

Check out Rob Kitchin, Eva Dolan, Jay Faulkner and Natasha Geary’s websites. Sorry for the tardy response guys!

And now, the Q&A:

What is the working title of your next book?

Welcome to the Octagon, a Fight Card MMA novella, due for release in April 2013 and written under the open pseudonym, Jack Tunney.

Where did the idea come from for your book?

I put out a question on Twitter one day asking for opinions. I wanted to know if people thought a new boxing novel would generate interest or if the growing sport of mixed martial arts (MMA or cage-fighting) would be more a more intriguing subject. The responses shaped the outline and consequently, the writing of this novella.

What genre does the book fall under?

Generally crime fiction. Specifically it’s an application of the Robert E Howard-esque pulp-era boxing tales to a modernized setting and sport. Does that make me sound smart? No? Nevermind.

What actors would you choose to play the part of your characters in a movies rendition?

I can’t think of any martial arts action movie heroes with Northern Irish accents. I suppose I’d ask the movie folk to trawl the burgeoning Irish MMA scene for wannabe actors. But the movie folk would ignore me, I’m sure. Is there a Belfast Chuck Norris? Barry the Blender doesn’t count.

What is the one sentence synopsis of your book?

Belfast widower, Mickey ‘The Rage’ Rafferty, fights in unlicensed bouts to support his daughter, but he’s finally got a shot at competing in a real professional organization, so long as his shady past doesn’t ruin it for him.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

It’ll be published by Fight Card, an impressive new outfit that’s been putting out boxing novellas for a couple of years now. Mine will be one of the first in their new line of MMA novellas.

How long did it take you to write the first draft of the manuscript?

A little over a month. I outlined and thought about the story for a few months before the start of the wordsmithing slog, though.

What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

Anything coming out under the Fight Card label. I read most of the books before tackling my own take on the concept. Great reads. Seriously, check out their site!

Who or what inspired you write this book?

Well, Paul Bishop – one of the co-creators of Fight Card Publications – first approached me about writing it after my Twitter ruminations, so I guess he gets the first credit. I also enjoy watching MMA, have friends who train in it (shout out to G-Wat and Mark B!) and have a little bit of a martial arts background myself.

What else about the book might pique the reader’s interest?

I think anybody who can appreciate the complexities of the sport will get a kick out of the technical detail of the fight scenes. I sweated blood over those scenes!

Amazon Reviews

This is something I struggle with. I spend way too much time thinking about the idea of reviewing other writers on Amazon. Why? I'll fire some random thoughts into a list. Let's see how many we get.

1. The sockpuppet thing (OLD NEWS, I KNOW!) bugged me in many ways. That's all I'll say about that topic.

2. It's nice to be nice. When other writers review my work on Amazon, I remember their name and if I get time, I return the favour.

3. 'Favour' is a tricky word, isn't it? Most people don't expect quid pro quo, I'm sure. I don't. But 'favour' gives the impression that some reviews may be more generous than they should be.

4. I don't finish a book I don't like unless I'm being paid to review or talk about it.

5. Sometimes I read a book, say to myself, 'That was great! I should review that on Amazon!' (especially if it's an ebook or a small press title) and then I forget to do it.

6. Forgetting to do things can stress me out.

7. I don't write well when I'm stressed.

8. I like it when people like me.

9. I don't care when people don't like me (this may be bravado).

10. Sometimes I think that I'm wasting writing time by trying to come up with smart and snappy reviews on Amazon.

11. There's some weird digital black hole that often deletes reviews written by writers for other writers who don't make money from said other writers book sales but have the potential to and then everybody gets angry. (I might not have paid much attention to that last phenomenonenomnomnom.)

12. I don't like to work for free any more than anybody else.

13. Should Amazon reviews be considered work?

14. There are more thoughts rattling about in my head but I'm starting to get worried about my time and mental health here.

The list ends now.

I've been very lucky with reviews to date on blogs and on Amazon. I may even have been reviewed a few times in newspapers and the like. Some people seem to like my writing. Some people definitely don't. What I'm interested in knowing is: Am I being a bit ridiculous here? Should I just stop reviewing on Amazon altogether? Have I just wasted another chunk of time right there? Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comment section. Or don't. I know we're all busy.

Anybody reading this blog for the first time should know, my books are generally better written than this here post. If I'm lying, buy one of my books and read it and then post an angry review on Amazon. ABC, Always Be Closing! Tee hee.

gb

A Wee Wayne Simmons Review - THE CREEPER by Tania Carver

If ever there was a book that 'does what it says on the tin', it's THE CREEPER. 

Everygirl Suzanne Perry wakes after a nightmare where an intruder came into her room while she slept, only to find a photograph of herself on the edge of the bed. Meanwhile, Colchester's finest are at the docks where the mutilated body of a young woman has been discovered. A little to'ing and fro'ing by DI Phil Brennan and team, and the two cases become linked. So when Suzanne Perry goes missing, the body of her best friend left in the wake, everyone fears the worst... 

This book is something of a rarity: a hard boiled crime novel set within the UK, yet American in its delivery. Carver delivers the goods, THE CREEPER's writing almost noir-ish in feel, with tersely written prose and punchy dialogue, hacked into short, sharp chapters. The characters are mostly well-rounded and flawed, and - until the end, at least - don't fall foul of stereotyping. 

Everything is well balanced within this book. Sure, the focus is often on our two main players, their relationship a particularly important part of the story. But nothing overstays its welcome. This is a pacey read, the story belting along at a ferocious pace, twisting and turning towards an action-packed finale. 

As a horror fan, I'm always looking for gore and suspense within my crime reading and THE CREEPER didn't disappoint on either front. In fact, I've nothing really bad to say about the book. This is as addictive a read as you're going to get, the very definition of page-turner. 

I can't recommend it enough. 

Wayne Simmons

www.waynesimmons.org

An Interview - Catriona King

Catriona King was born and raised in Belfast, Northern Ireland. She trained as a Doctor, moving to London to live and work. She obtained her M.B.A. from Henley Management College in Oxfordshire , trained as a police Forensic Medical examiner  and worked in central London in General Practice, Community Paediatrics and Health Management and strategy. She worked closely with the Metropolitan Police on many occasions. In recent years, she has returned to live in Belfast.

She has written since childhood, fiction, fact and reporting.

‘A Limited Justice’ is her first novel. It follows Detective Chief Inspector Marc Craig and his team, through the streets of Belfast and Northern Ireland, in the hunt for the killer of three people.

‘The Grass Tattoo’ her second novel was released in December 2012. It follows lust, greed and foreign gang influences leading to murders in Belfast and further afield.

The third D.C.I. Craig novel ‘The Visitor’ will be released in March 2013 and a fourth novel is nearing completion.

What are you writing at the minute? 

I've just finished editing the third book in the D.C.I. Craig series called 'The Visitor' due out in March 2013. It's set in April 2013 and is about unusual murders set in the world of a fictional hospital in Northern Ireland. I've also completed the first draft of book four which is provisionally called 'The Waiting Room' set around the time of the June 2013 G8 summit being held in Northern Ireland this year. We're hoping to release that in late May 2013. I've also written a play which is being performed in Belfast in May.

Can you give us an idea of your typical up-to-the-armpits-in-ideas-and-time writing day?

Well… if I'm lucky enough to have a full day free to write (I have a real job as well) then I'll start at 8 or 9 am and write until the natural light fades, somewhere between five pm in the Winter to seven pm in spring/summer. But I can only do that for three days in a row then I have to take a break for a couple of days or my head starts to hurt! :)

What do you do when you’re not writing?

I work in the real world to pay the mortgage, and I run a Belfast-based theatre company called The Studio which will be putting on two plays at the MAC in Belfast later this year. And I do all the normal things. Watch TV (crime or movies! especially anything with Viggo Mortensen or Michael Fassbender in them. Or directed by David Cronenberg. That being said a bit of Bruce Willis is fun too, especially the Die Hard movies) and meet friends for coffee, chat. Generally I just live life.

Any advice for a greenhorn trying to break into the genre fiction scene?

Yes, absolutely. Keep trying and don't be put off by rejections. A rejection just means that particular person didn't click with your book. Take on-board any advice they give you and take a long look at your book, and if you believe in their advice then redraft. But don't lose the core of your book or idea. Believe in yourself and trust the opinions of honest people you respect and then keep writing. There is no substitute for being a good writer except to write, practice, edit and redraft. It's hard work but it's worth it.

Which writers have impressed you this year?

Hilary Mantel without a doubt and Alifa Rifaat.

What are you reading right now?

Distant View of a Minaret by Alifa Rifaat. It's about the life of a woman in Egypt. Excellent. And I would tell everyone to look at the Perceval Press www.percevalpress.com for surprising and truly wonderful books. It's a U.S. site but they ship everywhere. And support your local bookshops.

Plans for the future?

Perhaps write another play. And I'd love to script write, for TV or film and I'm thinking of ideas for a screenplay right now.

With regards to your writing career to date, would you do anything differently?

Mmm.... That's an interesting question. I had an agent for a while and I do regret that, principally because it delayed everything and I spent ages just waiting for them to submit to people that they thought I should submit to. I left them and then weeks later read an article about a Belfast Author Rose McClelland who was with Crooked Cat Publishing, a new publisher setting up in Edinburgh. So I submitted directly to them and we clicked immediately. They are brilliant and very supportive.

Do you fancy sharing your worst writing experience?

The agent, who shall remain nameless. I think also that publishing can be a very cliquey business and established publishers sometimes won't take a risk on first time authors or less well known writers. They are also often to take risks and just go for what they know sells, which will change in any given year e.g. the vogues for vampires, reality show based books, celebrity biogs. That's why Perceval Press is such an awesome organisation. They stretch people to open their eyes and look at things differently.  And genre bookshops like 'No Alibis' in Belfast which focuses on Crime and American studies are well worth a visit.

Anything you want to say that I haven’t asked you about?

Just to say that I've deliberately set my detective series in post -troubles 2012 Belfast and onwards. I think people are tired hearing/reading about the Troubles (or maybe I am). The hero has no political or religious bias at all, and he's half-Italian to represent the other communities living in Northern Ireland. I wanted the books to belong to everyone and perhaps to do something positive to cross the divide (even if they are murder mysteries!) and I also wanted to showcase the beauty and good things like restaurants and countryside of Northern Ireland, as Morse does with Oxford and Rebus does with Edinburgh. Perhaps people will get to know Northern Ireland through the books and pay it a visit.

Thanks for interviewing me.

Thank you, Catriona King!

A Wee Wayne Simmons Review - HABIT by Stephen McGeagh

THE BLURB

Manchester, the present. Michael divides his time between the job centre and the pub. A chance meeting with Lee, an introduction to her ‘Uncle’ Ian, and a heavy night on the lash lead to a job working the door at a Northern Quarter massage parlour.

After witnessing the violent death of one of the ‘punts’, Michael experiences blood-drenched flashbacks and feels himself being sucked into a twilight world that he doesn't understand but that is irresistibly attractive. When he eventually finds out what goes on in the room below 7th Heaven, Michael’s life will never be the same again.

Think Bret Easton Ellis. On a writing break in the north of England. And all he packed was Fight Club and some early Stephen King novels. Stephen McGeagh’s powerful debut will stay with you for a long time.

THE REVIEW

We’re all about the fusion here at CSNI. Last week featured a horror hack tackling crime. This week, debut novelist Stephen McGeagh writes a horror-esque/ crime-esque thing, and releases it through literary publisher, Salt. Is your head spinning yet? Good. Because that’s exactly the right frame of mind for talking about this book. 

In many ways, HABIT could be part of the Bizarro or New Weird movement. But don’t let that put you off: for all its weirdness, this is still very much a story grounded in reality. The writing style is loose and colloquial, narrator Michael as Scally as they come. It’s dog rough at times, paragraphing and sentencing both out the window. And therein lies its strength: with such a down to earth narrative, characters and settings so familiar, the meat of the story, that big reveal in 7th Heaven, will prove all the more devastating, going way beyond what either crime or horror fiction has delivered in recent years in terms of shock factor. Make no mistake: HABIT is brutal. It will shake you to your very core. 

It’s a cinematic read. For tone and content, I’m reminded of films like MARTYRS or Paul Andrew Williams’ 2006 release LONDON TO BRIGHTON. There’s something lyrical about the book too, the easy-flowing narrative of booze and sex and Manchester’s clubbing scene reminiscent of songs like Arab Strap’s THE FIRST BIG WEEKEND or The Streets’ BLINDED BY THE LIGHTS. It’s the kind of book I’d recommend to people who don’t normally read much, the short chapters and slim volume making for a very digestible page-turner. 

The characters are people you’ll know, or once were yourself. Protagonist Michael is far from innocent, but he’s naive and fresh enough to ease us gently into the shenanigans at 7th Heaven while still retaining that all-important integrity. Lee makes for a good damsel in distress, in a twisted, neo-noir kind of way, with Mike’s sister as the equaliser (kind of) and best friend Dig providing some black humour.

There’s nothing to criticise. Everything about this book works.     

In fact, let’s make this easy for you: HABIT is groundbreaking. The kind of book that when you’re not reading you’re thinking about reading, and chomping at the bit to dive back into. It's full of dirt and grime and charm. Easily one of my favourite and most memorable reads of the last ten years. 

You need this book.     

Wayne Simmons

Genre Fiction Writer

www.waynesimmons.org

A Wee Wayne Simmons Review - EPITAPH by Shaun Hutson

THE BLURB:

He sucked in a deep breath full of that strange smell he couldn't identify. He trailed his hands across the satin beneath him and to both sides of him and, when he raised his hands, above him too. He knew why it was so dark. He understood why he could see nothing. He realized why he was lying down. He was in a coffin. A distraught couple thinks you've killed their daughter and they want a confession. If you say you did it, they'll kill you. If you say you didn't, they'll leave you to die. It seems hopeless but there is one way out... What would you do?

THE REVIEW:

With the exception of two Hammer adaptations, Hutson seems to have ditched the supernatural elements of his 80s and 90s horror output, focusing more on real-life horror of recent. Or crime, as we call it. 

EPITAPH is a crime book through and through. 

The catalyst for the story is a particularly heinous crime: 8 year old Laura Hackett’s rape and murder is vividy described from the child’s perspective in some of the most effective writing I’ve ever encountered by Hutson. From there, things go from bad to worse, grieving parents Frank and Gina Hackett doing what many would undoubtedly want to do in their situation, taking the law into their own hands. But is Paul Crane, the man they’ve pinned the murder of their daughter on, definitely guilty? 

I’ve read a lot of Hutson over the years and enjoy him a great deal. He gets a bit of stick for being something of a hack: ‘gutter horror’ is a term I’ve heard used when describing his work. For me, his writing is addictive. A kind of neo-noir style, with tight prose and short, sharp chapters. 

This is perhaps the most character-driven I’ve read from Hutson, and great for it. 

Our main protagonist is Paul Crane, the man the Hacketts believe to have raped and murdered their little girl. Paul wakes after a heavy night’s drinking to find himself in a coffin, presumably buried alive. It’s pitch black and he can’t move an inch. There’s a mic somewhere close from where a voice talks to him, telling him why he’s there.

The main body of the novel is the conversation Paul has with his captors, who we soon discover to be the Hacketts. They want to know all the gory details of their daughter’s rape and murder. This makes for very tough reading at times, and for that reason I wouldn’t say this novel is for everyone. The writing is powerful and emotive, the reader unsure until the heart-stopping climax as to whether Crane is guilty or not. 

It’s hard to think of a book this grim as a page-turner, but Hutson nails it. We can empathise with everyone, from the grieving parents, frustrated by the seemingly apathetic justice system, to Crane himself, desperately trying to reason with his captors, claustrophobic and all too aware of his diminishing supply of oxygen. It goes about as dark as you could imagine, and then some, Hutson never holding back. 

Yet still we read on.

In short, EPITAPH is a brutal crime novel dealing with heinous subject matter. It’s a cruel reminder, if one is needed, that true horror is what happens around us; a very human affair that has nothing to do with ghosts or zombies or vampires.           

Wayne Simmons
Genre Fiction Writer
www.waynesimmons.org