Hartmouth Horrors

This Monday morning, my mind is on the upcoming launch of Drudge , which I recently put up for pre-order on Amazon. Unfortunately, the pre-order system doesn’t allow for any previewing of a book’s content. So what I thought I’d do is share a wee sample here instead, namely the prologue of my third Hartmouth Horrors novella. Of course, it’s always a bit risky posting book content for public consumption, as I open myself up to unsolicited critique, especially from the prologue disdainers of the world, but anyway, here it is, and I hope it gives you a ‘pleasant’ taste of what’s to come. DRUDGE - PROLOGUE I tell him it’s delicious, knowing that anything less will only get me into trouble. And God knows, once you’ve been on the receiving end of his ministrations, for want of a better word, you’re not in any hurry to relive the experience. “Do you mean it, Jacob?” “Of course,” I mumble, the left side of my mouth still in a world of pain. “It’s really… excellent.” “Excellent, eh? I like that....

This Monday morning, my mind is on my Hartmouth Horrors novellas, which I don’t plug anywhere near enough. To wit, I’m going to show them off below and you’re going to be so dazzled you won’t be able to resist picking up a couple. Or at least that ’ s the plan. So without further ado, let ’ s take a quick look at the three suspects. EYES WIDE OPEN This is the first Hartmouth novella, the tragic tale of eight university students living in a shared house. When a night of drunken high jinx brings an evil presence into their midst, things go Pete Tong for them pretty damn quick. Think slasher vibes with a supernatural bent, and a slow burn that leads to explosive mayhem in the closing third. THE DEVIL IN MIA The second novella, a foul-mouthed possession tale, focuses on an alcoholic husband and his depressed, beleaguered wife. Can they survive the hellish hand grenade that’s just been dropped into their marriage? Maybe yes, maybe no, but one thing’s for sure, there’s going to be plenty of ...

This Monday morning, having finally finished Hartmouth Horrors novella number three, the dark and somewhat harrowing Drudge , my mind is firmly on the next. I already have a title, a cover, and a loosey-goosey blurb, so now it’s time to get things underway. Being a fairly extreme pantser, that’s pretty much all I need. I’m going for a backwoods vibe, setting this one on the moorland to the north of Hartmouth and aiming for a cast of five poor souls to put through the wringer of witchcraft, unhinged locals, and rusty old farm tools. So without further ado, I’m going to get started. With any luck, at the lightning pace of a few hundred words per day, I should have a first draft ready by the end of the summer. And that’s my penny’s worth for today. Until next week, happy writing to you all.

This Monday morning, my mind is on the use of song lyrics in fictional works. It’s something I’ve noticed in a fair few indie books and has always struck me as ill-advised, being that there’s a major risk of copyright violation for any material not yet old enough to be in the public domain—unless express permission is sought and, much of the time, paid for. As a disclaimer, what follows should not be considered legal advice but a starting point for your own research. First things first, using song lyrics in a book you intend to sell on any sort of scale is fraught with danger, and you would do well to simply avoid it. But if you do insist, here are a few pointers which are covered in more detail under the doctrine of fair use (link goes to the official US Gov website). Please be aware, however, that in practice, song lyrics are often afforded far greater protection than other media. Song titles are fair game as they can’t be copyrighted Some form of summarising is okay, and you can pr...

This Monday morning, my mind is on a poll I ran recently asking writers whether their work was more like a rough pencil sketch or a photographic oil painting. The reason for my wondering comes from something I once watched on the idiot’s lantern that really stuck with me, so here it is, an anecdote with at least a passing relevance to the world of writing. As a disclaimer, though, this is just my recollection of what I saw, and my memory is quite the fabulist. So, many moons ago I caught the last few minutes of a daytime TV show, a contest in which three artists were charged with doing the portrait of a guest celebrity. The first was using watercolours, the second acrylic paints, and the third oils. They’d just finished when I tuned in, and the celebrity was looking at each effort in turn before choosing his favourite. Portrait one, the watercolour, was really good, at least to this layman’s eye. The artist had done a pretty faithful rendering, capturing the pose and expression nicely ...