Monday 10 August 2015

The synopsis.

To send a novel off to publishers or agents you need to provide a one page synopsis of the whole novel. Basically chopping 94 000 words down into a meaningful, but miserly 575.

After many attempts I think I am going with:-

Synopsis – Book of Spells.
Pete Marsh (History graduate, life going nowhere) inherits an old ramshackle bookshop, only to discover it has its own hobgoblin, Gotluk, and is a gateway between the Fæ and human realms. Unlike the fantasy games of his youth, in the Fæ, goblins, ælves, dragons and magic are all real.
With his long time school mate Nigel Wadsworth (pudgy, heavy metal and fantasy loving overgrown teenager), Pete discovers he has magical talent and can use a powerful magic staff called Mircebane, that comes with a bound pixie called Pyewacket (a superb magic user with no sense of right and wrong). Oh! And, Pete is now the Guardian of the Gateways, responsible for controlling who or what crosses to and from the Fæ.
While being taught the rudiments of spell casting, Pete becomes aware that he and the bookshop have caught the attention of a group of mysterious, black clad Goth types.
When taking Gotluk, Pyewacket, and Nigel to a local Chinese restaurant for a thank you/celebration meal, the group are attacked and only just manage to escape out of the back door. Pete while running is poisoned in the shoulder by a thrown dagger, and has to be taken to the Ælven Queen, Flora Brightweather, for a cure.
Flora explains the truth about Pete’s newly acquired role and how he also inherited the Wicce, Black Annis (century’s old hag, who wants to send her goblin hordes through the gateways for revenge), as a mortal enemy, and it’s now his job to stop her.
Black Annis and her half goblin son, Moredread, kidnap Pete’s girlfriend Kate, and will only return her unharmed when they are given the fabled Book of Spells: a magic tome containing the spells to control the gateways. Using a necromancy spell, Pete speaks to the ghosts of the bookshop’s previous owners, and finds the book is hidden in the Fæ Fens.
While preparing their expedition to get the book, they grab a punky looking young women, Rhian O’Rourke, whom they think is Moredread’s spy, and lock her up in the dungeon so they are not followed.
The journey through the Fæ Fens is unlike any fantasy adventure they ever played as teenagers, and by luck and good fortune they somehow stay alive; helped by Tiddy Mun (old human wizard hiding from his past) and his water dragon called Marilyn, the group manage to rescue the book.
Facing the dilemma to either get Kate back, or possibly condemn thousands to a horrid death by handing the book over, a throw away comment by one of the ghostly former owners of the bookshop presents a rescue plan. Rhian it turns out is not Moredread’s spy but his victim. Combining the ghosts’ ability to open a temporary gateway with Rhian’s knowledge of Black Annis’ castle, a raiding party is formed to snatch back Kate.
The raid into the Fæ, through the temporary gateway, goes well at first. Moredread falls to his apparent death from the castle keep, and Kate is rescued. But surrounded by goblins Pete and co. have to escape down into the castle caverns. Tired, out of ammo, and short of magic power they meet Black Annis. Beaten and bloody, just as Black Annis thinks she has the book, Pete casts an incomplete gateway spell on her, and she is sucked down into the void. [Actually dropped into the Realm of the Dead, where she will return to haunt Pete.]

Wednesday 22 July 2015

I wish I had never started but.....

Do you sometimes wish you had never started something. 
Second version was miles better than the first, BUT......
So for the last few months, as well as doing my normal every day job, the edit of the edit has been proceeding very slowly...
I am not a fan of doing things over and over again - I will admit it - I have a short attention span.
However the final draft, the version I am going to go with, is done....

Below is a brief taster to thank people for their patience.

Pete, Pyewacket and Nigel are travelling through the Fae, and need a place to stay for the night.


With the light fading to darkness, we walked beside a muddy creek for a couple of minutes, until a strange sight appeared out of the gloom. Perched on stilts was a wooden building, half suspended above a dark pool, fed by the trickling creek. The pool end of the building had at some time sunk, giving the structure a lopsided drunken look. Around the lower edge ran a carved balcony, decorated with carvings of fish, eels, and frogs. Nets and other fishing paraphernalia hung from the hand rail. Set into the wooden shingle roof were a number of small garret windows, glowing with a warm yellow light. The lower windows and door were shuttered and closed. Off to the right was a thatched barn or stable, roofed with local reeds, from which a low and tuneless humming sound emerged.
            “You can see why it’s called The Stuck in the Mud, it sort of fits.” I said.
            My voice must have carried to the stable, as the humming stopped and heavy footfalls moved towards the door. I stepped back in shock at what emerged.
            Standing seven or eight feet tall was a bald, grossly obese troll wearing a filthy loincloth. Flabby breasts flopped over a huge swollen stomach, which in turn folded over a wide rope belt. The whole effect looked like he was made from a grey brown wax that was slowly meting towards the floor. His neck was decorated with loops and coils of old rusty chain. The troll had small, deep set, piggy eyes that stared intently at us.
            “Wot you want?” he rumbled in a deep voice.
            “Erm we need a room for the night, if that’s Ok with you?” I replied as politely as I could.
            “You not goblins iz you? It says no goblins,” said the troll pointing to a sign on the side of the stable.
            I looked at the sign, reading it quickly. Welcome, please leave all animals in stable. It made no mention of goblins, unless they counted as animals. I smiled at the troll. I guessed he couldn’t see the sign clearly, with his short sighted eyes, or even read it if the words didn’t look too fuzzy.
            “No definitely not goblins, just some travellers in need of some food and a place to sleep”
            “Dat’s OK den! Welcome to The Stuck in the Mud; finest tavern in the Fens. I am Prole the customer service manager.” His fat pudgy fingers pulled out a worn plastic id badge from the chains around his neck. The badge was for a female cleaner, from a down market road side hotel chain. Blind or stupid it didn’t matter, he was huge and I was not going to upset him by pointing out the glitch, or misunderstanding. If the troll was happy with the badge so was I. “As a customer do you want servicing?” he asked.
            What this might entail was slightly worrying, so I replied, “No thank you Prole. We can manage. You have been most helpful. Hasn’t he Nigel?”

            Nigel smiled and gave a little wave, to which the troll gave a sharp toothy grin in reply. He slowly turned around, wobbling gently, to return to the stable. A moment later the tuneless hum resumed from a contented troll, for a job well done!

Sunday 8 March 2015

Death by editing

Editing is taking much longer than I envisaged. Much, much longer. The story is alot better for it; it reads better, and is pacier. Some of the info dump pages have been slashed as not relevant to the tale. I also discovered that I am addicted to the word that for some strange reason. The swarm of "thats" has been eradicated.
I guess I am still a few weeks from this being completed, before twisting some more arms for comments on the beta copy.
While we all wait for me to get my rear end in gear, another doodle. This was one of my originals when first thinking about the book and who would be the wicce's minions / bad guys. My goblin foes were inspired from, among others, the following passage:-
"According to Sprits, Fairies, Leprechauns, and Goblins: An Encyclopedia of the Little People by Carol Rose, the Red Cap, also called the bloody cap, is an evil goblin or sprite from the folklore of the borderlands between England and Scotland.
In appearance, it looks like an extremely diminutive old man, with hair that is long and unkempt, red eyes, hideous talons on skinny fingers, and protruding teeth. His boots are made of iron, and he wears a cap that is red and blood-soaked.
According to Wikipedia, the red cap, also called a powrie or dunter, has to continually kill in order to dye his cap in blood, as the color will fade. His iron shoes make him very fast, making them quite impossible to outrun."
I made them the elite bodyguard of the wicce, relocated them from the Borders, and slowed them down a bit. The hero isn't the fastest thing on the planet, and I wanted him to have some chance of escaping.

Monday 16 February 2015

Huzzah!! 96 400 words later.

Yesterday I bashed the last word into the keyboard that officially ended the first draft. It has taken just over a year and to say I am on a high would be an understatement.

So what happens now.

The plan is to follow my trials and trepidation's as I go through lots of edits and then attempt to find a publisher. The plan at the moment is to try to find and agent and get the book published in the traditional way.
However research leads me to believe that this will be something akin to winning the lottery. So we shall see. If this fails then I will blog about how you e publish a book - something I know nothing about.

It will be an experience whatever happens...