Journal

30/03/2019

If you’re reading this, then chances are:

A)     You’re annoyed with all the vague tweets in Morse code and want all that bullshit cut away, you don’t wanna be troubled anymore (in which case, you know, blame me for overly ambitious marketing).

or

B)      You’re genuinely interested, and want to know what the deal is.

Without further ado, I’m happy to announce a couple things.

First off, and most importantly –

My new book, A Quiet House, will be available later this year.

The ETA is a little suspect – these things take time – but we’re aiming for a November/December Launch.

All those messages in Morse Code – there’s a few – are all excerpts, quotes, dialogue, etc from the new novel. Similarly, the blog will have little Easter Eggs throughout,

Below, there’s the synopsis. Stick around after – there’s a couple things to go over.

“A lonely farmhouse in Oregon becomes the site of true horror.

A stranger holds a family hostage, threatening to reveal secrets that, over the course of one night, will tear the family apart.

Brutal, unforgiving, and haunting, A Quiet House is the next chapter in the increasingly lore rich Americana Mythos, a series of interconnected horror, thriller, and suspense novels in the same fictional universe.’

Secondly, and equally valid –

As you may – or may not – be aware, Camp NaNoWriMo is right around the corner.

As it’s such a critical part of my life – the first novel I ever wrote was during this crazy, heady month – I’m going to also be doing a five part series on my blog.

I’ll be uploading this every Sunday, and this will contain advice, how I’m going with the book, and also Q&A’s. I’ll also provide a few tips on the fifth of May in regards to approaching agents, self publishing, and the more business side of things.

Thirdly, for your consideration-

There’s a YouTube channel – somewhere – that’s going to be starting up, that’s going to contain music, multimedia stuff, and the like, and will update you all very soon in regards to where and when this can be watched.

Pre-orderrs will be available later in the year.


24/04/2017

THE NEXT IN  LONG LINE OF MISTAKES

So, um...

I finished Eden Parish, at the beginning of the month. Hey, by the way. It's been a long while. Over 4 months! According to the journal entry down there, anyway.

Eden Parish, then. It's sort of a Lovecraftia body horror noir thing. I can't really explain it. It's become it's own beast, really. 

But yeah, a short and sweet update while I file out taxes and the like. Watch this space for updates, and more. I'm going to be doing a lot more, now; get back into the swing of things. I was away for a time. Let's not spend so long apart next time, yeah?

Ciao 

15/12/2016

RECAP, AND A LITTLE UPDATE

It's been quite a while since I updated this thing here, so I thought I'd do just that. I'm woefully under prepared for constant updates, as I have a new job and some responsibilities to account for, but I think it's only fair to provide a little update on what I've been up to over the past few months.

First off, my book Years of The Worm was released in both Print and also on Kindle, and can be picked up over here. It's doing okay - it's nice to see a bank statement that says I got paid for something I spent a lot of time writing and crafting for you guys. Like I say, it's doing okay. So, if you're reading this, and you have the book - thanks. Your support is like a lighthouse on dark uncertain waters, providing comfort in the dark. 

If you're reading this and haven't got the book, you still mean a lot for just taking the time to have a quick browse, so thanks all the same.

My next book isn't going to be The Bone County like I outlined below - that comes later. The idea is in place, but something better came along.

Instead, my next book is called Eden Parish, and focuses on doing a lot of world building. There's stuff set up in Parish that won't come to fruition for several more books. It has a few characters from previous books - being careful, of course, not to spoil any other books I might be writing or have written - and several new and fun folks to meet. I can't wait for you guys to read it, with an estimated date of Q1 2017.

Also, just a quick little aside. A little story about how I received an email from someone in Oregon -

"You know, I thought I'd just drop you an email saying to keep up the good work. I like what you're doing, you know, basing everything here - I live in Portland, myself, and I think you're great at catching the setting."

I remember smiling at that bit, and scrolled down.

"You do know, though, that we don't all smoke all the time, right?"

Thanks, Karla. I'll keep that in mind.

YEARS OF THE WORM AVAILABLE FOR PRE-ORDER, AND NEXT BOOK!

Like the title of this little post suggests, you can pre-order YEARS OF THE WORM over here. It's significantly longer than The Visitor, hence why there's a whole 9 cents difference.  It's a little more serious and kind of strays away from the more, uh, odd aspects of The Visitor. It's in the same world - Pine Oaks, a place in my first book is a major place in this one - but has a much more stricter tone of horror. There's a little more heart warming stuff, too, but yeah. Generally speaking, Years of The Worm is a lot more Machen than Pizzolatto.

And with that being announced, I can say that my next book, The Bone County, is actually going to be my first one available in print. Yep. I've talked to folks, and managed to get that sucker available via Amazon and a publishing company. So, aye. Not bad, that. Not bad at all. I even have the cover confirmed, if you want a gander. 

I'm going to be putting a post up later at the Projects Page on here, which'll give you a very, very vague description of it.

Cheers!

Con x

I DID A Q&A! LOOK AT THE THINGS!

25/02/16

Kelsey- “Do you get writers block?”

I think mostly every writer does. It’s weird. You get an idea, think ‘Yeah, that’s cool’ and then you can’t find a damn way to get what you visualise on the page. Or, you just kind of don’t know what to put next. But yeah, I do.

Alex – “Is it tricky writing with a full time job?”

Like you wouldn’t believe. I’ve started getting to the point where I do short hand stuff while I’m at work. Ask any writer on Twitter about it – paying the bills and stuff can be a real time vacuum.

Shelly (Long time no speak!) – “Do you think you’re a horror writer?”

I’d say I’m a few things. The Visitor is a fair few genres. There’s even like some romance stuff in there. It’s just I kinda grew up on 80’s movies, you know? I really appreciate that style...so I’d say I’m going to transpose elements of that into my work. Particularly John Carpenter. I listened to his Lost Themes album literally on a loop for a full day. I like writing Lovecraftian stuff, too, because...I just find it fascinating, to be honest.

Darren – “Why don’t you ever write something happy?”

I do. It’s just between the lines. Like, Years of The Worm, which I’m working on at the moment, has some things in it that are very personal and warm. There’s a lot of stuff with young love...and while it doesn’t always pan out, it’s pretty damn beautiful when you’re in it. No more spoilers, though, yeah?

Ben –“I’m just wondering about how you price stuff?”

A good friend of mine once said that a book’s price should be something that is accessible, first and foremost. A lot of writers and stuff put books – like, novel length stuff – up at 5.99+, because they care about their work and damn well want money for it. That’s great, but, you know. I just was thinking 2.99 is pretty good for a non physical, 70K+ book. I mean. That’s like; barely anything...and mostly I just wanted to see if I could write in the first place.

Adam – “Name some influences?”

Lovecraft. King. Chambers. Dunsany. Poe. Arthur Machen. John Carpenter. My friends. I have a few.

Raviana – “Do you think books on Amazon and the like are of a lesser standing than traditional works?”

Nope. It’s a tool, that’s what I think. One day, sure, I’d love for Coffee Eye to be able to get a legitimate print order of something up. As is, I like the idea that other writers can be like ‘Hey, help me a little?’ and we don’t ask for anything in return. I think, though...E-Books are like a big, important part of the world, now. They aren’t any less important, really.

CJ – “What genre is The Visitor?”

I class it as Weird Crime. It’s a little horror, a little thriller, a little mystery...and a little bit of a lot of other things. Arguably there’s some superhero, spy stuff in there. I don’t want to ruin it, but there’s a lot.

Sheila – “Name one dream project you’d love to do?”

I’d love to do the Unused Story Ideas of H.P.Lovecraft. Basically there was a commonplace book (sort of an old timey writing journal) where he wrote 221 story ideas that weren’t used or at least were modified to fit into his mythos. I really, really want to do those, but...221 stories? Shit. I mean, maybe if I had help. As is, I’m planning like a short story collection at the moment with a friend of mine called Zoe, but don’t want to spoil what that is, either. But, yeah. 221 ideas. Love that, me.

Missy – “Do you have a preferred writing snack/beverage?”

Used to be beer. It’s Ovaltine now.

Peter – “Give me some music to listen to while writing.”

Sure. If you’re writing something that’s pure horror, I recommend some SWANS. First time I heard them I fell off my chair. If you want something more exotic, try GUNSHIP, or maybe phantogram. Try David Lynch’s music, too. That’s pretty different. It depends on the mood, you know?

Thanks to everyone who DM’d, just not had time to reply to everyone’s stuff. I’ll get round to it, promise. The other 5 of you I’ll get around to answering soon J

05/02/2016

YEARS OF THE WORM: COMING APRIL!

Hey, all!

So, if you follow my Twitter – and how else really could you be here? You nice guys – you’ll know I’ve been slaving away at a thing since November, called The Nightmare Club. 

Originally, it was going to be a kind of novella, focusing on childhood things that happened to me, to do with storytelling and the like. It was going to be a ghost story, through and through; but with a little bit of my own kind of...added input and flavour.

However, after all these months, The Nightmare Club has kind of...I don’t know. It’s a lot more than a ghost story, now; if anything, it’s kind of about growing up. I didn’t mean for so much to go into it, but I genuinely love writing it, when I get the time – and it’s dawned on me there’s a few things to say.

Firstly, as you gathered by the title, The Nightmare Club is no longer called that. In light of the subject matter, it makes more sense to finally be able to talk about the finalised title – Years of The Worm. It’s been called a few titles, whilst me and my editor/confidant/ coffee buddy were discussing it. It’s been called The Broads, and The Years Gone Bye. However, the final title just makes so much sense, thematically, structurally, and plot wise, that, well, yeah. It follows a grown man, remembering and attempting to stop some crimes that are happening in his home town, which he hasn’t seen in over twenty years. It’s pretty standard fare; and I based a large portion on my own childhood, but, aye. Years of The Worm.

So, now the title is finalised; I can also say that Years of The Worm is currently set to be done for the end of April. So, yeah. If you read The Visitor- 27^th Feb, by the by – and then read Years of The Worm you’ll kinda get a handle on that whole ‘shared universe’ tattle I was rambling about a long while ago.

It’ll also have a few little clues at some ideas of things coming soon, not least of which involves a certain singer songwriter whose last name is Carter. If you’re into the stuff I am, you’ll know that name rings a bell.

But, yeah. Nice, short post.

I also just want to say thank you, so far, to a few people who are actually meaning more to me right now than they’ll ever realise.

So:

My parents (for making sure I don't go crazy on my nights off),

Margaret,

Rydawg,

Chelsea,

Em,

Adam,

XLE

- There are a whole lot of people to go, too. I’ll put more on as I go on, I promise.

But yeah, short and sweet. That’s the point of that.

Thanks and Later!

22/12/2015

I’m starting a literary house!

So, uh, this is kinda spontaneous, huh?

I recently was having a discussion with a friend of mine who has just started doing writing with this year’s NaNoWriMo, and I directed her to my prep pieces about it, which she found super helpful. I also told her a little about finding decent editors, folks for advice, and generally not getting sucked into scams. She then went on to say I should put this stuff together in a more cohesive place, because my advice was pretty handy – she didn’t finish NaNo because she started late, but she came pretty damn close, so I heard; which is just as good. I’d be happy if I helped a person even put a word down, so I took that as a victory.

But it got me thinking...there was a lot of times when I had just started writing The Visitor (Saturday 27^th, mark it down. That’s the E-reader release,) when I really wished I had some advice, or maybe just a hint about starting out writing. So I’m going to do a post a week – probably starting this Saturday – that aims to do just that, over at a new blog I’m starting, called “Coffee Eye Literary House.” I’ll have a few folks helping me, but basically we’re providing free editing, tips, advice, and also can help identify and even approach agents and submission sites for you; because it can be a little daunting to get your work out there. We're not like picky with genre's, previous works, anything like that; frankly, the moment you decided to put a 

Like I said, we’re doing all this for free, part time; the only thing we really would find nice (totally optional, by the way) is maybe a little reference to us in your work, if you want. Now, this doesn’t have to be in the foreword or legal text (you can, if you want), but we’d prefer it if you did something like very subtly putting us in your fiction. Go wild, be creative; that’s what we’re here to encourage.

So, when does this start up? Probably next week, actually. The twitter is already up over at @CoffeeEyePub; with the blog coming up next week after we’ve done some HTML business. But yeah, should be a laugh. We can also promote your work, too – though the specifics haven’t been drawn up yet. You’re not beholden to us, too; if you say find an editor/agent/publisher yourself, then by all means, go for it! We’ll still be there for you, old boy.

We’ll also be dealing with Facebook, too, though I won’t be handling that. I find Facebook 3spoopy5me. Yeah, I can be all down with the kids, too.

So, yeah. Just follow the twitter, or you can click the pic below to be brought to it; and stay tuned for more. :) 

Oh, also, happy holidays, folks. I hope you have a great new year, too. xx

25/11/2015

Weird Americana, and Shared Universes!

Hey guys, been a while. Sorry about that, my bad.

I’ve been chugging away at my NaNoWriMo novel “The Nightmare Club” (which you can read about if you mosey on over to the “Projects” page). As is, I’ve not even had enough time do some more short stories (though God knows I’ve had enough ideas.)

As is, now I’ve reached the 50K, I thought I’d do a little thing announcing something. If you look above, you’ll probably notice a map. You might be thinking “hey, that’s weird, what are those dots?”

Well, I’ll tell you. The books I’m releasing (at least for the foreseeable future) are all set in the same universe, which I called Weird Americana. That map above shows all the stories I’ve got planned out or done; with the green ones being stories I’ve done, and the red ones being ones I haven’t yet.

So, in light of that, I made a map (which I use to keep track), and have now decided to show you guys. You can probably read some of my short stories I have so far, and you can pick out where they stand in the grand scheme of things.  Like a puzzle, kind of; but, you know, literary. You won’t have to read every story and every book – that’s one of the faults I have with the movies these days, kind of, miss one thing and you’re done – but if you wanted to, you can start to pick apart little references to other things, other books, characters, and times.

I want to talk about why I decided to do that, mostly in this.

I’ve loved the concept of shared universes since I watched the old Universal Horror Movie sequels; and yeah, they’re in the same world. Even Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein was in the Universal Monsters Movie Universe. Well, the old one, anyway. 

Christ knows what they’re doing with the new one; I doubt the writers do, either.

Back on track, anyway. I love the idea of shared universes because suddenly everything becomes very real. Characters suddenly gain associations they wouldn’t have otherwise, and I love the idea that if you go up a street, maybe down the right (or maybe wrong) alleyway, you’ll be in another story. I love that, and it gives me a lot of joy to kind of give that sense in my works.

It’ll make more sense next year, don’t worry.

Anyways, Ciao for now; and if you’re still doing NaNoWriMo, keep doing it. You’re doing something incredible. I’d shake your hand, but, you know. Cyberspace. Give yourself a pat on the back from me, yeah?

Later!

Con 

22/10/2015

Prep for NaNoWriMo Part Four: My Process

It's like, a week on Monday when NaNoWriMo starts. Have you gotten your Novel Announced? Are you even taking part, as in maybe you're just curious about writing? 

This bit of my blog is kind of more about giving you a loose example of what I do for Notes; using a practice story that I'm probably going to be writing in January. It's more suited to being a Novella, but I'll give you a rough idea of my, kind of...process of writing, for formulation of an idea to getting started. I'm not showing you this for God's Acre, because...well, I'm worried I'd spoil something.

Specifically, this story was going to be called The Nightmare Club, and focused on a man who had a traumatic experience with a group of friends who had a gang roughly like the children of "Are You Afraid Of The Dark?", who all parted ways in the winter of 1989.

By the way, this only really applies to the folks who aren't "Pantsers", if you want to use that kind of nomenclature. This only really applies to the folks who really want to plan, to kind of give you a rough idea what I do. If you are the kind of person who rights based off a simple idea and then nothing else, then good for you. I do that too, mostly; and step one might still be something you'd want to do. 

Step 1: Formulation

Generally speaking, all and every single thing I write starts off on my cork-board, on a little post it note (probably right next to something like birthday cards or drink recipes). Whenever an idea just doesn't pop into my head - like they usually do - I'll grab one of my post-its, which are usually, maybe, a sentence; two if that.

Corkboard of Dreams!

I tend to do a "What if?" style question to get the ball rolling, though sometimes I'll just write a sentence long summary or phrase, even (for example, with my story "Powwow", I said something after a long night of drinking akin to "Yo, ghost bears!"). Now, I'm not going to prattle on and on, if this doesn't work for you, find a way your comfortable with, get the door shut, and get writing that jazz, guys! 

Example of a post-it. Note the simple phrasing and linear ideas.

2. Notes and Research

The next thing I do is begin to do research or notation, maybe even do the opening chapter for a test run on the tone. Maybe you'll find you don't really know what the tone should be; or maybe you'll find out the book was too large and monstrous for you if it's ambitious (which happens, no shame in saying it).

Below is an example of my notes for "The Nightmare Club" (well, the first page of them) which shows some doodles, and the very, very, very initial stages of what I do. Sometimes I do it word processed, other times I do it in a book. 

Notice the chicken scratch. It's very important, I swear.

After I've done some planning, I tend to let it sit for a bit, and then just...well, write it.

3: Writing!

Writing is...what you do, I suppose. I don't need to explain it. I can give you some guidelines my buddy/agent told me (and a few folks did with rejections on stories).

1. "Generally speaking, Writing should be done in 12 PT Font, preferably New Times Roman if word processed. 
2. There should be either 1.5 or double line spacing.
3. Apply 0.5-1.27cm indentation for each new paragraph. USE OF TAB IS NOT SUFFICIENT
4. Use of font choice not necessary for digital books; people can and WILL change it if they want. Sorry.
5. Ergodic Literature pisses people off.  

Whilst the last one was a joke between me and him referring to how difficult he found reading "House Of Leaves" by Danielewski, the other points are fairly accurate, from experience. 

If you're an independent writer (which is where everyone is at least once), then you can ask...say you're wanting to apply to an anthology of, uh, Spooky Stories About Skeletons For Zombies, for example. You might want to ask  the publisher what the guidelines are for editing, which I whole-heartedly encourage. 

Plus, you feel great when they reply, too. Important, like.  

14/10/2015

Prep for NaNoWriMo Part Three: Lore

There's a lot of be said about world building, and a lot to do if you want to do it properly, hence why there's been a significant lack of updates on this bit of my blog.

Before that, though, huge thanks to everyone who's reading so far; really quite awestruck that after only really sinking into this aspect of writing for like a few weeks (as in this here blog you're reading), I've already gotten a lot of notice and folk being nice and generally super cool. You guys are great.

Back to what I was going to be writing about, which is Lore and world building. 

Lore is generally speaking what happened before your story, and world building is what you do both during, and maybe after your story. A few folk get that confused, so that's like what I rationalise the difference as being. In the case of Gods Acre (which you can read about here http://connergrantauthor.blogspot.co.uk/p/projects.html), I first had to kind of think of a way to explain the mythology of the town of Sunset, where the majority of the book happens (maybe a good two thirds). I basically came up with an idea that something under the town (which I won't spoil, but will be pretty fucking terrifying if I can get it right) is pulling folk back from where ever they were going when they died, and also preserving them in the ground. Maybe not on purpose, but certainly something is under there doing it.

This led me to think "Well, what does happen on The Otherside?" 

I'm not a big fan of the notion of describing The Otherside, mostly because I'm pretty scared of it. That naturally led me on to one of the big themes that is heavily Lovecraftian:

I made it so the dead, if they remember what happened on the other side, go mad because of it. You would, really. Imagine how scared you'd be if you were there and gone, and now very much dead and well. I'd go nuts, probably.

Then I thought to myself, well. If folks who remember The Otherside go insane (and become traditional Romero esque creatures), then surely there'd be some kind of authority other than one guy who knows about it? Of course there would. My organization is a little bit more interesting and has a little more bite (I think) than the likes of the standard "Government Operation X" that is getting a bit of replay these days (plus, I've already written that, kind of).

The next bit of lore, really, to consider when I was writing this was to create backstories for my cast of rogues and dead folk (and when it's set in a graveyard full of reanimated corpses, you can be sure that there's a few). There's Mrs Cranbell, a house wife from the 50's, that was involved in Sunset's history. There's Vance "The Lance" Taglione, a magician from Vegas that made the mob kind of angry by stealing a literal truck full of money from them. Alice Waters is the three year gone partner of another main character, Milton Waters, who has a really big scene in Gods Acre. And those are just some of the "dead-folk". You have Milly Winters, a 22 year old woman who has a secret or two; Joel Romero Abrahms, the current Grave Keeper; and, basically, a whole town of quirky folk from all over America, but the majority are from Minnesota.

World building, then, is what you do in your story. I can't spoil too much, but what I can say is that I'm kind of experimenting with Magical Realism (Angela Carter is a huge influence on me). I love the idea of David Lynch, too; where there's all kinds of little things bubbling under the surface of small town life. (Aside: I still maintain Twin Peaks Season 2 is criminally under appreciated. That final scene of the last episode was killer, man.)

I can't spoil too much really about what my World Building jaunts and forays are, but they're fun, more importantly. What I will say is that there's going to be references to my other works (including the short stories on here) that I think folk'll like if they've been reading. 

As of this moment, I have about 8,000 words done in rough, because it's just damn fun to write. I'll probably slow down a bit till November, where I'll crank the whole thing out, but yeah. I really can't wait to get this and also The Visitor out to you, which should be really, really soon.

Later!

29/09/2015

Prep for NaNoWriMo Part Two: Word Counts and Notes

There's a lot of a, a sort of...I guess kind of...a confusion, when it comes to word counts. When I did Camp NaNoWriMo this year, I noticed a lot of folks worrying over word counts, their notations, the way they should mix, etc. I finished my manuscript fairly early on, because simply, I had the story in my head for the better part of around three years, maybe more. 

A lot of folks were asking me in my virtual "cabin" how I write and stick to a word count and kind of keep to a schedule. I'll tell you how, if you want. I'm sat in my kitchen right now, drinking a coffee, with my word count done for the day, so I have the time.

I write, on average, about 2000-5000 words a day. If I'm being really driven, I'll write more; but not by much. 6000 at a push. 2000 is what I recommend though.

In terms of like, keeping to a schedule, there's a couple things you can do. Now, I've never done creative writing as a subject at, say, university. I'm a journalism and publishing lad, but the principles are the same no matter what: 

Get a time, and do it. 

Back when I used to drink a lot, I would mostly write before I started, and then dabble in it, edit it in the morning when I'd sobered up, rinse and repeat (usually taking out a lot of superfluous adjectives). Now I don't drink, I tend to write either in the morning, or at night.

The night, for me, is better; you can tell yourself the story a lot better, because for some crazy reason imagination seems to become more tangible and less abstract. What I mean by this is that for some reason, my brain simply becomes a lot more alive at night. I might not write at night, but I sure as hell tell myself what I'm going to write.

In terms of this prep for NaNoWriMo, the night is usually spent for research. Lovecraft's fiction relies a lot on the unseen, and when you're living in a guitar and book cluttered little room with an en-suite, a lot of things are unseen. I mean, fuck, I couldn't even find my phone last night because it was so dark. I have a little clip on like torch, that I use to read. I used to listen to music while reading, but I stopped doing that when I realised I'd stay on my laptop all night googling for research and then getting distracted.

So I read Lovecraft at night, or Chambers (I'm currently re-reading The King In Yellow) and then tell myself what I'm going to write the next day. Then I get up, do it, sticking to my word count, and then I relax, maybe go and do something other than to do with my book (maybe I'll write a review of a game, for example), then I'll do the same as I did till it's done.

Then I'll contact my friend who's my editor, they'll tell me it's shit, and then I'll redraft. But that's for tomorrow, I think. 

In summary, get a word count you can consistently do, then stick to it like glue. 

28/09/2015

Prep for NaNoWriMo Part One: "Lovecraftian what?"

I'm quite a big advocate of NaNoWriMo. It's a very special thing for me; mostly because I wrote my first ever long-fiction during that month. I met a lot of really inspirational people, and more importantly had a lot of fun banging out my first draft of my novel The Visitor.

"Banging Out". That seems kind of crass.

The thing to do now is kind of plan my next one, though, for November 2015's NaNo.

I tend not to plan too much; I find that if I do, the ideas get polluted with side story that appears forced, rather than natural. I follow the Stephen King/Danielewski mentality- ask yourself "what if".

For this, I've had the idea now for a very, very long time of a Lovecraftian Apocalypse. This is very different from other post-apocalyptic kind of media, in that there is no real way to win. The eponymous Walking Dead suffer brain trauma; in the world of Stake Land, they suffer the similar foibles of Vampires in other works of fiction. In a Lovecraftian Apocalypse, there's no reprieve. 

You can't just, you know, blow up the personification of the unknown.

So that means it's the long haul. There's no cure; no saving the people there. It's all, in a manner, fucked. 

So how do we make that engaging? If it's that bleak, how can I make it so you don't just want to stop reading because it's too dark?

I kinda stumbled on the answer. 

In the script for At The Mountains of Madness (or at least something claiming to be), there's the idea of staving off the end. I'm not going to spoil it; but basically there's no way to fully stop the end. You can make it go away, though, for a while.

Why don't I make it so that the characters are trying to stave off their own acceptance of the reality they live in? 

I then went on to do research into the terrible tragedies of history, and the way people banded together (or didn't). I bought a memoir of a survivor from Katrina; which talked of the way the martial law of the super bowl worked (and the answer was fucking abhorrently). 

I then started having a look at what my disaster was. I had several notions; re-reading a lot of reference material by Ligotti (a fantastic kind of successor to Lovecraft; I recommend The Conspiracy Against The Human Race) and also the likes of King, Blackwood, Derleth, and the always interesting Campbell. Due to the nature of the Cthulhu Mythos; there's a back catalogue of material for research, spanning the last 80 years or so. I'm not just talking fiction either. 

You have to pay, you know, good money for good books. 

As is, I've kind of come to a conclusion on what my apocalypse is (though I may never say in the text, because that would dilute the meaning of it), the next important thing is to decide a very, very important (and attractive) thing: Do I modernise certain elements of the mythos, or go and just write something with minimal referencing to what has gone before? 

I guess I'll figure that out in the next coming days.
In the meantime, here's a picture of what Lovecraftian Horror is in a nutshell.

Drawing Courtesy of Sch1itzie, titled "Horror In the Depths." 

http://sch1itzie.deviantart.com/art/Horror-in-the-Depths-244824770

27/09/2015

We're getting into the last part of me getting ready for sales, which is basically going to be in the next month. I know I said it'd be done earlier, but I'm fickle, and went through and added things and changed things for pacing. As promised, though, you can read the first chapter of The Visitor, below in it's entirety, for free.

The Visitor

Text Copyright © Connor James Grant

All Rights Reserved

                                     I

The chevy impala, black as sin, trundled steadily along the forested road. Beech, Oak, and other forestation lined the grey and black tarmac slab; stretching through the North Western Countryside. The dawn had only just come, and settled orange tones through the pine trees, reflecting off the still wet road from the rainfall the night before.

The man at the wheel of the impala held his cigarette steadily, the car window rolled up to prevent the smoke getting trapped within. Whilst it was routine at this time of the morning to have his usual cigarette break; this time at least he had a destination in mind. As he thought this, on cue, came the sign; green with white borders, rusty, and ill maintained, which read: 

Point Truth, 35 Miles.

‘Ah, Oregon’, said the man. He repeated the phrase a few times, each time with more softness, warmth, and a southern inflection. When he was pleased with his tone, he repeated the phrase one last time.

‘Ah, Oregon.’

He spat his cigarette out of the open window; before picking up another one from the seat next to him, and lighting up. He was careful not to disturb the files located next to his cigarettes, all of which were laid out logically for his work. A newspaper article, crudely cut out, poked from the edge of a large, immaculate (in comparison with the rest of the car) leather brown ledger. The top of the headline could be seen, which, as newspapers are want to do, stated clearly and professionally:

‘Point Truth Beauty Queen found butchered!’

The locals must be pleased. The town beauty queen, Katy Amber, aged just 16, was found dead in a forest outside of town, evidence of all kinds of misconduct on her, both pre and post-mortem. She’d been beaten to death. So it goes.

 Next to this article, and a Google Image searched Photo of Katy, was a photo of her mother, Olivia Amber. Owner of the First to Last Diner; which, according to research, boasts the nicest pie this side of the Atlantic. That kind of pep-talk was paramount to hiding foibles and lies. He was positive, of course, that there must be better food out there. He couldn’t decide. He scratched the scar at the back of his neck, as it throbbed. The cigarette had long since gone out at this point, so he threw it out of the window. Olivia Amber was, once, a well respected writer; some gaudy stuff, he noted, but other times had a profound tenderness to her work. Some of her more lurid trash was a fantasy series clearly meant to ape Game of Thrones, filled with misogyny and men’s skulls being eaten by ghosts. Weird stuff. Not his cup of tea, no siree. Her other work, written mostly after childbirth, was much, much more his liking. He had read a book of short stories based on popular fairytales, but with a sad twist, called Blue Woods. There had been a version of a ‘King Arthur’ style-tale where a knight travelled to the end of the earth to bring back a sea-shell for a princess, as a gift to woo her. When he got back, he realised that, weirdly enough, ‘A person should never have to be bought, only loved’. Sentimental garbage; but the twist came when the knight was beheaded for wasting the princess’s time.

Stuff like that was more The Man’s style; dry, cynical humour black enough to hide the night’s sky in. She had a nice sense of humour, too; one that a man would love to be belittled by, The Man was sure. Waking up in the morning to something dry and dark.

He smiled at this, as another sign sped past. 20 miles. Not long now.

*

Olivia woke up to the sound of rainfall in the dark.  She could feel by the tightness of her face that she had been crying in her sleep again. That wasn’t what woke her, though. There was something else. A noise, from the kitchen. She hoisted herself up, her slender frame a silhouette in the gloom. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she placed her head in her hands. A hangover was already forming; looking at the tableside clock, she could see that she had only been asleep a few hours, and in three, would have to be up for work. A car went by her house, no doubt from dropping someone off. She knew who was being dropped off, of course. She put on her gown, tying up her loose, shoulder length brown hair, and turned on the bedroom light. The room itself was one that you would expect from someone who, once, had been a writer; trinkets and baubles of the craft surrounded the room. On a handmade bookshelf above her head were books on Wordsworth and the romantics; scattered around on the floor were reference books, and a few paper stacks which contained plot ideas and the previous versions of old novels. A large, single-paned mirror stood up in a corner next to a dresser, an antique heirloom from her mother. The mirror itself was at least 100, 150 years old, and was passed along the family, as such things often are.  She grabbed a bottle of painkillers from the bedside table, placed one delicately on her tongue, dry swallowed it, and went out into the dimly lit corridor. She could already hear the stumbling, the cursing and the stink of alcohol. There was her other daughter, Chloe,  in the kitchen. Relief flowed through Olivia regardless, as she made her way down the hallway, and stood looking at her daughter. Recently, she had left high school, before wanting to go study photography up in Maine. Her grades had slipped, though, and she had to retake her last year. She had on her Guns and Roses loose fitting cotton sleeveless vest, and her cut off denim shorts. Party gear. Olivia stood in the doorway, arms crossed, whilst Chloe ransacked the fridge, whispering to herself drunkenly.

‘Evening, Chloe.’

Chloe startled, so much so she had to grab onto the fridge door to stay buoyed and upright.

‘Jesus, mom! You scared me super bad!’

Olivia shrugged. She wasn’t mad at her, to be honest; losing Katy was enough heartache and anger for a lifetime. She didn’t, pure and simple, have it in her to be mad at Chloe.

‘You do know what time it is right? I got to be at work soon, you jerk.’

‘Mom, give me a break.’

She turned her attention back to the fridge, and eventually nodded and grinned to herself, before grabbing something inside. She then fumbled, her hand-eye co-ordination failing, and dropped a glass jar of peanut butter, which smashed on the ground. She swayed unevenly as she looked at the ground, and then back at her mother. A look played on her face, one of surprise; as though she couldn’t believe her hands had disobeyed her. She looked up at her mother then, with a fearful glance.

‘Shit, sorry mom.’

Olivia sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger.

‘It’s okay, just...’

She looked upwards, at the ceiling, mouth agape in tiredness. She was tired, and her life was tiring ever more so.

‘Just go to bed.’

‘Mom, I’m really, really sorry I went out. Jason asked me for...for a lift out to Cedar Creek, and then like, he said he didn’t want a lift, and there was a party there and...’

‘Chloe, just go to your room. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Be careful of the glass.’

Chloe then began to bend over, as if to pick the shards up. Olivia stepped forward into the room.

‘Chloe, no. I’ll get it. Go to bed.’

She looked at her mom, her face a peculiar display of emotions. In all her years of writing, Olivia still didn’t quite know how to describe that look that Chloe can do. An accurate description would be bittersweet, but something more, and possibly something less.

‘Okay, mom.’

She then stumbled out of the room, resting on the door-frame for a moment, before disappearing down the hallway and then into her room, with the satisfying ‘click’ as it shut reverberating through the silent, single floored house. Olivia looked at the destroyed jar, the shards, and then looked back down the hallway towards Chloe’s room. What is going on in her head? What do I do? What can I do?

She began to pick up the shards, nicking her thumb as she did so.

‘Ah, shit’ she said, as she quickly went to the sink and ran it under the cold water, a few single drops of blood staining the laminated wood flooring.

*

The drive to work, as could be expected, was hellish. Olivia lived on the outskirts, really; a good 15-30 minute drive every day, followed by one back. The hangover had come in full force, a throbbing, dull ache in her head and dryness in her mouth. She was, at least, thankful for the scenery. The town of Point Truth was magnificent in the autumn. The trees that lined the sidewalks of the main fair and town hall took on auburn shades, scattering leaves on the sidewalks. She spotted the old megaplex; a cinema that was constantly being renovated, or so it seemed. She remembered going to screenings of Star Wars with Katie and Chloe, and seeing Stephen King’s Misery once, on a date with a childhood sweetheart. She couldn’t remember him, for the life of her. It might have been the captain of the chess club, who she thinks was called Donnie Fisher. It might have also been the local Sheriff back when he was a lit student, Harold Wenters. She couldn’t remember, and didn’t care, really. The thought of Katy burned into her mind. It would be the first time she’d worked since she died two months ago.

Thoughts turned to her baby girl. Katy had, in truth, always been the apple of her eye. She felt bad admitting she loved Chloe a little less, but it was true. She had to stop herself thinking of her little Katy, crying silently in the dark, face down in the woods, with god knows what happening to her, a crowd of nameless, blank faces relishing her anguish. She pulled over outside old Mathew Harrelson’s tool store, and cried for a moment. The town was relatively quiet at this time, and she appreciated that. She knew she had friends, but she had no intention of even talking to them about Katy. It was too much; memories burning holes in her heart. She wished she was made of stone. If only. Taking a moment to look at herself in the rear view mirror and wipe tears from her eyes, she heard a quiet tap on the driver side window. Mathew Harrelson was stood there, a flannel shirt hiding his portly frame, and his think rimmed glasses sitting uneasily on his tiny nose. He reminded her of the old Coca-Cola Santa Claus; but one that was washed up, and decided to open a tool store instead. He was warm and friendly, however, and she appreciated that. She rolled the window down, wiping a tear from her face and breathing in a great suckling breath.

‘Morning, Mr Harrelson. I was just...I’m sorry to park in front of your store.’

He smiled; a small toothy thing in the post dawn light.

‘It’s okay, dear. I was just checkin’ up on you. I haven’t seen you for a long while; and me and Maude were worried.’

She forced a smile, the phoniness of it apparent, even to her. The contours of it felt like she was wearing a mask, nothing real about it at all.

‘I appreciate that, Mathew, really.’

He patted the roof of the car, smile receding slightly.

‘It’s alright, my dear. Me and Maude are away this weekend; taking the sunset up to Seaside. Setting off on Saturday morning, coming back Sunday night. Just thought I’d check in with ya.’

She looked down the road to the diner, and nodded.

‘Well, tell her I’m fine. Have fun at Portland.’

‘Oh we will! Take care now. Maude wants you to save her some of that shortbread stuff you guys make; that okay? For the drive, I mean.’

‘Yeah, that’s fine. I gotta go. I gotta go now, Mattie. I’ll see you around.’

She nodded and smiled, lips pursed so tight her cheeks wrinkled. He patted the roof of the car again, then turned and unlocked the front door to the store, disappearing into the dark within. She set off again, and pulled up in the parking lot behind the diner.

The diner itself was a strange story in and of itself. It had been around since the fifties, and was still styled as such. It had been home to many family get together’s for the small town, and photos of these events from the past 60 years could be seen. They had once in the sixties, for example, had a competition on who could make the biggest pie between here and a rival, but friendly, company set up in Pine Oaks, up the road some. A photo mounted to the wall, framed, showed a large, unkempt man (possibly a previous chef, or an owner, but who could say?) sat in front of a square foot blue-berry pie. Strange.

After Blue Woods, she had been able to make enough money with royalties and a small tour of the book to be able to afford something meaningful. The First to Last Diner was going to be supplementary to her novel pay checks, but eventually became the only source of income. Olivia had struggled to focus on storylines and characters; her mind became entangled in intricacies. After Katy had died; the well had dried. Inspiration was cold, and dead. It was like being stranded in the depths of the ocean with nothing to grip. She was lost in the cold and dark, just like her baby had been.

She took a moment to catch her breath.

‘Shit.’

Her hands gripped the steering wheel tight enough for her knuckles to whiten, and she rested her forehead on the curve of it. Her breaths were laboured, and painful. She noted, as she reached shakily for the door handle, that the pain wasn’t physical.

04/08/2015

The Visitor is done.

I'm sorry I haven't, you know, updated, or anything, but yeah. The Visitor is officially done, as a first draft, and should be up for sale by the end of the month.

As a treat, when we get a little bit closer to final sales, I'll be able to put up the first chapter, you know, up here. For free. Because I don't really want to have to sell my book, but, unfortunately, the world is a strange place where if you aren't rewarded for something, you may as well have not done it. I'll be uploading up more tidbits of my next project, which I think will be more personal, heartfelt, and just generally more of a character driven story. 

You'll see.

16/07/2015

This isn't going to be a recurring thing, but, starting now, I'll be doing little updates and stuff occasionally on here, so you can get the most out of me being a guinea pig of a writer. You'll see my highs and laugh at my lows, and, more importantly, you'll probably get to see me get that low in the gutter I'll look at people actually in the gutter and say 'I wish I was up there, it looks lovely.'

Backlog, Camp NaNoWriMo Week One:

The following was written after the first week of Camp NaNoWriMo, so ignore the obvious chronological issues. This is merely me putting all my eggs in one basket.

Hey all!

If you’re reading this, it’s probably because you’re either

A) Bored,

B) A writer, or are taking part in NaNoWriMo yourself,

C) Just interested.

Another possibility, of course, is a combination of the three, but that’s beside the point. Let’s leave that at the wayside, and let’s talk about what’s been going on as the first week of Camp NaNoWriMo draws to a close. Due to the fact NaNoWriMo concerns itself with fiction, I’ll present it as such; make this feel more like a story than me rambling. You with me? Good. Let’s go; I got enough fuel to take us to the next station. Lock the door on your way in, leave it open on the way out.

I’m not going to pretend I’m Neil Gaiman, Stephen King, or even close to Ligotti and his pessimistic musings. Starting Camp for the first day, It quickly became apparent that I’m not even the most imaginative person in my cabin, which is the first thing we’ll talk about, before I go into the process of writing my first ‘Weird Crime’ horror story, The Visitor.

Cabin Fever

The idea of the cabin, immediately, is inventive and immersive. Yeah, It’s not a touch on joining a writing group (something I’ve done twice in my 22 years) but it’s incredible that now, I can talk to imaginative people from all over the world, talking about these worlds we create for ourselves. If we get the world we deserve, so far, all of my camp mates deserve a good one, and more. One writer, who we’ll call Writer A for now, has a fascinating idea of taking a character from a fairytale, in this case Rumplestiltskin, and placing him in an almost Hannibal esque world. Another has a short novella planned revolving around the fight, psychological and physical, between two serial killers. It’s insane, and the amount of imagination in my little group is staggering. So, so far, so good.

Writing Advice for The Week

On to the process of writing, then. Writing, in and of itself, is both creative and destructive. I’m an avid fan of Stephen King’s mantra in a beautifully crafted memoir/writers guide called On Writing, where he states (I’m going to paraphrase, of course):

‘If you don’t have the commitment to spend four to six hours a day writing and reading, you have no purpose being a writer.’

There’s something charmingly simple about that. Writing comes from a social, personal, and even mental sacrifice. The thing is, though, is that you have to reinforce yourself; become steel. Get the word count, get things done.

For the next bit, while you’re reading, put on some music, and imagine you’re in a forested clearing, the smell of Oak and Pine in the air. Maybe the air is crisp and warm, maybe you can see a storm brewing towards the north. Maybe you’re pitching your tent, or maybe you’re hiking to your cabin yourself. It’ll be a nice way to augment this post. Just go for it. Enjoy the walk.

Those pesky word-counts, then. I aim to write around 2,000 words a day. I’ll write more, of course; with these people who you conjure up in your head, there’s something fascinating to watching them, almost naturally, create lives for themselves. I once wrote around 7,000 words on, I believe, the 4th day, because I was able to write and write and write and become engrossed in my story. How do we get to that point though? How do we write?

Ask yourself ‘what if’. I’ve given this advice to my cabin at least three or four times. There’s a writing conceit where people say ‘oh how do you get your ideas?’, usually followed by writers getting mad, and, quote Gaiman: ‘We get mad in a writerly way, which is to make fun of you.’ There’s parts of that which is true, but, generally, my advice so far, a week in, is that ‘What if?’ is my best friend.

“The Western Book Of The Dead”

So, what is my book, then? Well, it’s many things. I’ve classified it as ‘Weird Crime’, because it is, essentially, a crime book. At it’s core, that is what it is. However, that’s like saying Halloween is about a brother and a sister. It’s much, much more than the sum of simple parts. In a nutshell, my book revolves around a small, little town in Oregon, which is reeling from the murder of a local, popular, high schooler.

The family, consisting of a mother, and a rebellious sister of the deceased teen, are visited one day by a stranger, who offers to get the men responsible and kill them. That’s it. I could write a 12 page, 5,000 word story about that, maybe. As I wrote it, though, just that outline, many things come up. Who is this man? How does he know who killed the daughter? What is the family situation like?  What secrets, really, do people have behind closed doors? (Yes, elements of the suburban moral decay found in David Lynch’s works are apparent, and you can see them if you squint hard enough between the lines.)

But what is ‘Weird Crime’, then? In short, it was something I had to come up with to explain my book to publishers, who I won’t embarrass here( and of which I’ve had a couple interested offers, one of which stated “It reads like Twin Peaks if written by H.P Lovecraft and John Carpenter”, which I found adorable). In my head, you could read this, and then watch True Detective, and, tonally, you’d be able to be comfortable. It’s a strange amalgamation of horror, crime, hints of Lovecraftian influences, and the moral panic of the likes of Twin Peaks, etc. I’ll admit, too, that I believe I’ve found a genre I’m going to write in for the foreseeable future. Cabin mates have been positive, and, a week in, I already have around 27,000 words, of a goal of 55,000.

Taking Stock

Overall, then, week one. Let’s review.

= I have written over half my book.

= I’ve accidentally created a name for my genre.

= My cabin-mates are very beautiful, tender, supportive people.

= Publishers are keen on my work, which is something I never, ever thought I could say.

Not a bad week. Hey, there’s a motel over there, just off the highway. Yeah, through that woodland path. Let’s stop there for the week. We got money to burn, and another 3 weeks of travel in us.

Let’s go somewhere beautiful together.

Camp NaNoWriMo Week 2 Update

Just like before, this is just for my piece of mind, but still, do have a read.

Had a nice stay? I did. The coffee wasn’t too great, but I liked the decor. Anyway, we have some more miles to put ahead, so grab your stuff. We gotta go.

We got things to talk about, I reckon, about how the past week has gone, and, thankfully, the short answer is ‘pretty damn well.’

Cabin Fever

Like last week, when we were driving through quiet, foggy forests, (or maybe we were hiking, who knows? Only you, really) my Cabin mates are still fairly solid. Author A and myself were talking about plot quite a lot, and more specifically about pacing yourself over the month, which I think is something super important to talk about. Overall, I’ve done possibly way too much, but we’ll talk about that in a little while.

Overall though, I still maintain my view that the whole ‘Cabin’ aspect of NaNoWriMo’s camp variant is a really, really good idea.

Pacing, and ‘Writers Greed’

So, you might be looking at that above headine and think to yourself:

‘Dude, it’s two weeks in now,’ you might say, wide-eyed and bushy tailed, ‘I think I get this whole pacing thing.’

‘Well, hold on a minute,’ I say, ‘let’s just pull over here at this diner, and have a chat.’

Pacing is really, really important over this month; because a fair few things could happen if you don’t have a little think about it from time to time. For example, say you had a story about a teenager, maybe a little older than yourself, who finds out a…chair is possessed, or something. Now, you know the story better than anyone, and I’m not going to preach to you about it, but it’s important to not go crazy and write more than is feasibly possible for you. I don’t have any commitments at the moment, so I can happily lock myself into my study or other personal space, and write for 9 hours a day. Maybe you have kids, or a job (in which case, well done! Our economy can be a killer), or maybe you just don’t want to fizzle out and write your story in one go, which could happen, if you’re doing a short story or something. In the case of “Tommy Dylan and the Eldritch Chair!”, as we’ll call it, you could go either way. Hell, Misery, one of the most famous horror novels of all time, was originally a short story where the crippled writer didn’t get away in the end. Make sure you stick to a word goal per day, and stay close to it. Not only is it more challenging that way, but you also won’t end up with days of not wanting to do anything, because you reached your quota.

Now, on the topic of plot pacing. It’s a sensitive subject, really. If you’re a planner kind of person, you might be comfortable with knowing exactly where the story will be going at any one time. Which is great, obviously. Here, have a piece of blueberry pie on me. For me, though, I’m more of a Pantser myself. I’ll get an idea, write it down, and then refine it while I’m writing, and get used to the characters (and find out things about them) in a more spur of the moment kind of thing. One thing I’ve noticed, though, in a lot of younger writers (because I do editing occasionally for manuscripts on a pro-bono basis) is something called Writers Greed. It’s a term I use to describe when a writer with a good, solid idea basically squanders it in the first few pages. Maybe young Tommy finds out how to banish the eldritch horror inside the chair in the first few pages, because you put a lot of effort into researching Native American rituals, and by god people are going to know.

Don’t do that. For a short story, it makes sense, logically to have some kind of reveal maybe two-thirds of the way through, and, as such, the denouement is much more stronger because the reader knows now, it’s fresh in their minds, and as such when The Yellow King does get banished from the rich Corinthian leather of that chair, they’ll be rotting alongside your characters. Basically, don’t rush into things, let your reader be rewarded by your good ideas. Right, we gotta get moving again. I’m getting real low on gas, so we’ll call off at the next station.

Writing Update

Look at that guy up there. That’s a sketch done by a very good friend of mine (who also acts as my editor), on what they got when they read the very sparse description of my main antagonist/protagonist, Ethan Felton. I think that’s a pretty lovely thing to do, considering all I do is pester her and send her drafts of bits that I probably won’t use, anyway.

Anyway, back to the updates.

Since my update last week, I’ve been refining the concept of what Felton is a little bit, and also been chugging away steadily at my word count  (you could say I’m hypocritical, maybe, for suggesting 2,000 words a day and then completely eschewing it and doing a fair bit more, which is fine. Certainly not the worst thing I’ve been called). At the moment, I have 50000 words done. Now, let me just say a word about that. That’s 50K, where a good 25% is unedited. I have the fortune of having really good literary friends, and I’m also fortunate that they can’t deal with my bullshit. Pardon my French. There’s nothing more important than to find someone you can trust who can also tell you your manuscript has bits which are shitty. It’s good. Welcome it. So, yeah. I’m chugging along, and hopefully will have it done sometime next week (which gives me a week for editing purposes, and then some more publisher phone calls, which aren’t very fun, but are exciting at the same time. But more on that next week, I think.

I was thinking we could just camp tonight, you know, just read some books by an open fire. We don’t have to, but I know just the place. Let me show you it. I was thinking next time we could write about ideas, but you’re already full of those…right?