Awards eligibility post 2018 - some short stories you might wish to consider

It's that time of year when award nominations are considered - and so here, I round up first of all the stories from Inklings Press that you might want to weigh in your thoughts as you make your nominations, and then a story or two of my own. But first, let's talk about Tales From Alternate Earths 2.

Tales From Alternate Earths 2 is, as you can tell from its title, a sequel - and the first anthology earned two Sidewise Award nominations, for Daniel Bensen's story Treasure Fleet, and for the tale Twilight of the Mesozoic Moon, by Brent A Harris and Ricardo Victoria. Daniel went on to win the Sidewise Award - while Brent went on to earn a second nomination for his novel, A Time of Need.

Both authors return for this second volume.

The Goose's Wing, by Daniel M Bensen, tells the story of a world in which 10th century Andalusian polymath Abbas ibn Firnas really does invent the glider - reshaping the world as humanity conquers the distances that separate us. He soars into this new world, aloft on board a glider, but still about to plunge into a cauldron of prejudice and rivalry.

Pillars of the Past, by Brent A Harris returns to the shifts in American history that he loves to explore - in this instance an America which never split from Britain - but where the strains of colony life linger into a modern day torn apart by a desire for independence, and the troubles of terrorism. What choice would you make if the price of your vote might be your lifeblood itself?

Andy & Tina, by Gideon Marcus turns our attention to the Soviet astronaut program, where the Andy & Tina of the title are Valentina Tereshkova and Andrian Nikolayev, lovers and cosmonauts. Gideon reimagines their world - and sets it to a soundtrack by an alternate universe version of The Kinks. There are lies, there is deception, there is romance - and there is a truth kept from the world by these star-crossed lovers. 

The Matthew, by Christopher Edwards, revisits the discovery of the New World, but with a different path, or perhaps a different course might be better said. The Matthew was sailed by John Cabot to Newfoundland in 1497 - and this story considers the consequences of that journey, had it gone a different way. Suppose Columbus wasn't the man hailed with that discovery, how might things have changed? 

The Emperor of the North, by Rob Edwards, considers a world where global warming isn't the fear - but global cooling. Gripped in an eternal winter, that crushes its hand around the Earth further year by year, how might we live? How would we survive? And who would be there to tell the remaining survivors about what comes next? 

The Accused, by Casia Courtier, visits a distorted Earth where the Salem witch trials kept their grip on the nation - and where knowledge and literacy became the Devil's tools. When books are banned, when their pages are burned, what do people risk for the words that speak to their hearts? 

The Fairy Courts, by Jeff Provine, bursts to life with a hall full of mythology. Jeff is a collector of folklore, and here he showcases a world where creatures out of myth stalk our own halls and corridors - and where an exhibition of caged cryptids burst loose, and havoc follows in their wake. 

The Dust In The King's Library, by Cindy Tomamichel, loops through time and considers the consequences of trying to make an adjustment to our own history - particularly the circumstances surrounding a certain mad king, and a poisoning. But if we change our own history, where do the dominoes fall? What are the consequences if we dare to write a new page in our history, there in the King's Library?

1969: A Space Oddity, by Jessica Holmes, is our next entry and... well, we don't know how to break it to you, but... the Moon landings were faked, you know. Really. Well, maybe. And Jessica has a story to explore just such a possibility. Part Wag the Dog, part Wizard of Oz, she introduces us to another man behind a curtain, spinning a lie. 

Lueger's Wager, by Bonnie Milani, presents a classic conundrum - what if the path of Hitler could have been stopped, or changed? Bonnie transports us back to a time before Hitler set on the course he followed in our world, but still a time full of prejudice, hatred and the cauldron of conditions that formed his vile outlook. What would it take to change things? A bullet? An army? Or just a few words? 

Under Pressure, by... well, me. I'm not one to toot my own horn, but while I'm busily borrowing the Inklings Press horn, I might as well toot out an extra note. Under Pressure is my story set in a world where Jacques Cousteau's dream of an undersea city comes to pass - only to face the dangerous tides of politics... and murder. History is a swirl of tides - and one change in current might not be all that is needed for such a dream to come true. 

Want to read all these stories to judge for yourself? You can pick up Tales From Alternate Earths 2 at mybook.to/AlternateEarths2

Also for your consideration... I would also like to mention Inklings regular Ricardo Victoria, who has been laser focused on his novel this year, coming out in 2019 - but he was included in an audio anthology over at The Wicked Library. His tale The Scratching leads their first Tricks and Treats collection - and you can listen to that here.

I mentioned Rob Edwards above - and he has another story (pictured above) to consider - his tale The Equinox Transfer. A confrontation on board a flight between the ancient and the rules that bind them. It's in his Mic Drop collection, which I really enjoyed - you can check it out at myBook.to/MicDrop

Oh and one bonus story to offer...

The Clockwork Cowboy, by Leo McBride. One of mine again, this time in the Writerpunk Press anthology Hideous Progeny, a collection in which the writers take on classic horror stories and give them a punk twist. I take on Frankenstein, and reshape it in a Weird West setting where Tesla's talents are put to use, and a cowboy made of clockwork ticks slowly to life. Will it be in time to save Aggie and her father from the town thug? You can find out by picking it up here: https://www.amazon.com/Hideous-Progeny-Classic-Writerpunk-Project-ebook/dp/B07D27MR5G

That's it - my only other published stories this year have been flash fiction pieces, which are probably too short to consider, though if you want to read them, you can follow the links to read What We Become, How I've Come To Hate The Sky, Where You Last Expected, and Killer App. 

Here's to some more stories published next year - especially if baby lets me get to the keyboard just a little more often! 

FREE STORY: What We Become, by Leo McBride

I was a shame to my father as a child. 

He wanted me to be a warrior - he said I was too soft. Instead, I played in the court gardens at Argos. I chased butterflies as he scowled and said I would amount to nothing. 

He might have been right if it hadn’t been for Demetrios. My father boasted of ruling kingdoms - but the gardens were the realm of Demetrios. He was the chief gardener, and he took me under his charge. He took my whimsy and shaped it into love. He showed me how to sow, to prune, to cultivate. He showed me that things grow - as did I. 

My youthful arms became muscular. I stood tall and strong. My father had discounted me for so long in my youth - now he saw new possibilities for me. He put a sword in one of my hands. He told me to stand with the Hero of Argos. He told me to write my own legend. 

I missed the gardens as we sailed, and talked long about them to my companions as the winds and waves buffeted our ship, while we huddled below and waited for Poseidon to find another target for his wrath. Finally, we reached Sarpedon, and our Hero led the way. 

Perseus surged ahead of us into battle, the sun gleaming off his mirrored shield, his sword aloft, stabbing the sky in defiance. How could we lose? 

I could not imagine failure - until the tunnels, and the whispered stories of the horror of Medusa turned out to be true. One by one, we fell, until only a handful of us were left.

Medusa was ready to spring upon Perseus as his back was turned. I shouted a warning, and her gaze fell on me instead. She turned me to stone. 

And yet, inside I still existed. Motionless, I waited. Motionless, I lingered upon my failure. Motionless, I remembered. 

I remembered those days as a child, running freely in the gardens - back when I knew only happiness and my father knew only shame. I was a failure then - to him, if not to me. Was I a failure now? I had fallen - had Perseus triumphed?

I remembered something else too. I remembered what I learned in those gardens. “Aren’t they beautiful?” I shouted as I chased those butterflies. Demetrios laughed. 

“Not always,” he replied, and showed me some grubs on his fingertips. “This is how they start out.”

“But how?” I asked, with the simplicity of the child I was. He showed me the husk of a cocoon, explained how the grub changed. 

“Things change,” he said, “things grow. Just like you will. What you are now isn’t what you will become.”

I sit, frozen inside my stone cocoon. I begin to feel the stone flake. It crumbles away from my eye. I can see. 

I am becoming. 

THE END

Author's note: So hey, how did this flash fiction piece come to exist? Well, there's a smashing group on Facebook called Rhetoric Askew. Lovely people, and with a friendly group of writers, artists and more. Quite often, they post pictures with a challenge to members of the group to write something - a poem, a flash fiction, etc - inspired by the image. You can see the image that inspired this piece here - though you might need to join the group. Which would be a fine way to discover all that the group has to offer. Have a good weekend, all! 

Leo

FREE STORY: How I've Come To Hate The Sky, a flash fiction by Leo McBride

She was the first. But not the last. They found her body in a New York park, surrounded by her killers. A Murder of Crows, screamed the headlines. It was an oddity. An unusual event. At least, it was then.
The reporters turned to the scientists, asking how could this happen. The scientists brushed them off. It was a million to one incident, they said. All but one scientist, who quietly pointed out that crows were among the smartest of animals and asked what if they had learned something new.
The next day brought two more killings, both in the same incident. An old man was attacked in the street. A police officer tried to go to his rescue. The crows killed him too before they fled, taking his eyes with them.
A curiosity became a shiver of fear throughout the city. Scarecrows appeared on the lawns of the people who had them, in the windows of apartments for those who did not. The talk shows were no longer talking about how weird the first killing was, but rather filled with the voices of worried callers, asking what was going on.
The mayor said it was just a rogue group of birds, and experts were being consulted. Not that there were experts in this.
Day three brought ten deaths. All separate incidents across the city. This wasn’t one rogue group of birds - or at least, not any more.
The mayor issued a bounty, $100 reward for each dead crow. The environmentalists cried out, the hunters showed up.
The fourth day was the bloodiest yet. The hunters took to the streets, loaded up with their rifles, and the crows came for them. All the deaths that day were among the hunters. The crows suffered casualties, but there always seemed to be more. 35 hunters died that day.
People shut their doors, peered out their windows and listened to the TV news. The governor declared a state of emergency that night, and called in the national guard.
They called it the Central Park Massacre. The national guard rolled right into town, lined up neatly on the grass of the park, and began to die. The troops were trained to fight other soldiers, not the quick arrows that gathered above, so many that the midday sky grew dark. Then they fell, in a rain that turned red as they struck their targets.
The only survivors were those sealed inside their armored personnel carriers, and they fled from the screams of their comrades. The crows stood attendant above the massacre, massed on the trees of the park, defiant.
People didn’t dare to go out after that - and when they did, they were picked off one by one.
The president boarded Air Force One to come and take charge of the situation personally, but the TV anchor, stranded in the studio for days now, reported the plane went down - all four engines hit by a bird strike.
Trapped indoors, starvation and shortage of medicine started to take its toll. No more deaths one by one, now they came faster. Risk the birds, or die indoors.
Those who were lucky enough to get to their cars found they had no way of getting out to refuel. They couldn’t drive far enough to get away from the birds. The lucky ones were those who managed to get to indoor garages of malls big enough to find shelter.
The remnants of government started a rescue operation. Where to go? There was only one option - the underground shelters, stocked up on military rations long enough to consider alternatives. The few survivors reached there. Most didn’t.
 We live underground now. Cultivating food where we can, and peering out reinforced windows at the surface world denied to us now. They say we’re lucky, that we ought to be grateful. But I sit and stare out the windows each day. They ask me if it’s because I miss the old world, the way it used to be, but it’s not. I come to remind myself how I hate the sky.

By LEO McBRIDE

FLASH FICTION: Where You Last Expected, by Leo McBride

It's Friday... so here's a short flash fiction for your evening's reading. Enjoy!

Where You Last Expected

By Leo McBride

The taxi driver wouldn't shut up as we made our way past streets named by number and with little imagination. Every road we passed he had another story about; how this person was killed here, how that drug raid was made there. 

“Why even come out at night, sir?” he complained, as if he was trying to talk himself out of his fare. “You see these kids on the street? They're devils, you trust to a guardian angel to look after you? You think if there were such things they wouldn't look after those kids first?”

Sure, he was right, it wasn't safe, but his concern for me ended with the passing of the dollar bills. His taxi spat me out by the park. I didn't want to be out here either, but work is work and I had papers to drop off with a client. 

I saw some of those kids as I got out, watching me as they sat by a playground in the dark, and switched my briefcase to my other hand as I headed the other way. Dammit, why'd I have to do the crappy jobs?

I barely got 20 yards. The red lights of the taxi's rear were still in sight when the mugger came at me from a side alley, knocking my briefcase down and scattering papers everywhere. 

He had a metal bar in his hand, and it cracked my arm as I tried to protect myself. I cried out as the bar swung down, again and again. Jesus, the pain was too much. This was it, I was going to die. Why didn't I listen to the damn taxi driver?

I curled into a ball, shouting for it to stop, shouting for him to take the papers, take the money, take any damn thing he wanted, just leave me alone. I raised my hand one more time to try to make it stop.

And it did. 

Blinking, I looked up. We weren't alone. The mugger stood there, his hand raised, his mouth open. 

Around us, they stood. Four of them, their wings enfolding us in shadow. “Guardian angels,” I gasped, through a broken lip. 

The mugger stammered an apology, dropped the bar, and ran. 

One of the four reached out a hand to me, and pulled me to my feet. 

“You're real,” I whispered, in awe. “You're angels?”

“Close enough,” replied the one who held my hand.

Then anger overtook me. The words of the taxi driver rang in my head. If there are such things, why don't they look after those kids first? “Dammit, you're real and you only help now? This city is a mess! Where are you all the time?” I spat blood. 

The angel smiled patiently. “On the streets,” he said. “Where we've always been.”

With that, they folded their wings away. And then, just kids again now, they walked back to the playground and sat in the dark. 

Meet The Clockwork Cowboy - now in print in Hideous Progeny, from Writerpunk Press

She looked up at its oddly-shaped head, which despite its larger figure was similar to that of a large man's in size. It appeared to be made of brass, but with circular glass protrusions held in place by an x-shape of brass struts that reminded her of a drawing of a diving helmet from one of her father's books. 

The rest of the apparent face was smooth and implacable. Within the creature, she could hear the echoing of many ticks, the noises of gears and cogs in motion that she had heard from outside. 

The Clockwork Cowboy is my newest short story in print - and it's a delight to be included in the latest anthology from Writerpunk Press. 

Regular readers of the blog will have heard of Writerpunk Press before - they published the fantastic Edgar Allan Poe goes punk collection of short stories that I gave five stars to and rated as one of my books of the year, so it's a real honour to feature in one of their publications. 

This collection sees classic horror stories given the punk treatment - there are takes on stories by HP Lovecraft and Sheridan Le Fanu, of Oscar Wilde and Franz Kafka, of Bram Stoker and... well, then there's Frankenstein, which inspired my story. 

I love Shelley's tale, and the thought of reimagining this manufactured man was irresistible. So in I plunge to a Wild West world with Tesla tech and whirring cogs. The rest? Well, you'll have to see. There's more to come from this world from me too - look for further stories in this same setting, starting here on this blog soon. 

A special word of praise for artist and author Enesha Bennett, who created this image of the Clockwork Cowboy himself. Many thanks for creating a vision of the character, helping to bring him lurching to life! You can find out more about her work on her website, here, or follow her on Twitter, @ejbennett123.

I hope you'll join me and the Clockwork Cowboy in our world - and the other writers in the anthology. Funds raised from the sale of the anthology are to be donated to PAWS Lynwood, an animal shelter and wildlife rescue facility located in the Pacific Northwest. 

Here's a preview trailer - and at the bottom is a link to buy the book. Happy reading! 

Link below not working? Click here instead.

And looking for some music to get in the mood? Check out the Clockwork Cowboy playlist on Spotify. 

FREE STORY: Killer App, by Leo McBride

He stepped out of the bustle and heat of the plaza into the cool air of the restaurant. The maître d’ raised his hands in protest.

“I’m terribly sorry, sir,” sighed the maître d’, with a plausible attempt at an expression of genuine regret on his face, “Reservations only today. It’s terribly busy, today’s ceremony, you know.”

The man smiled. “I’m sure it is,” he said. “But I have a reservation. Name of Calvi. Table for two.”

“Aha!” the maître d’ said, accompanied by a small clap of his hands. “Say no more, sir! Please, follow me.”

In moments, Calvi was at his table. “A window seat,” purred the maître d’, “you’ll have a perfect view of the ceremony. Would you like some water now or would you rather wait for your companion?”

“I’ll take a glass,” said Calvi, with a nod of thanks, and the maître d’ was away. The glass arrived, the cool water soothing his dry throat, and he placed his phone on the table, his fingers gently tapping as he waited.

It was a few minutes before he picked up the phone. He swooshed through the applications, and tapped a logo with four letters under it. BOTS.

The bots appeared on the screen. A collection of tiny robot creatures nestled in a box. With a single tap of his finger, Calvi stirred them into life. Up they rose, forming a chain as they helped one another out of the container. Their new surroundings appeared on the screen, huge walls, giant cobblestones. Calvi’s little bots were lost in the land of the giants, awaiting his instructions.

He paused for a moment and flagged down a passing waiter, asking for a coffee while he waited but declining the menu for the moment.

Order made, he returned to his screen. Killing time, while his companion’s chair remained undisturbed.

The coffee arrived as he was busily steering his bots into the opening at the bottom of a drain pipe. He nodded thanks to the server as he swiped the screen, instructing the little creatures to form a bot pyramid, bracing themselves against one another and the inside of the pipe to climb their way upwards. It got trickier partway up, with part of the pipe crumbled away, but some careful tapping got his bots stacked neatly on top of one another across the missing section, then firmly putting themselves back in place when safely back in the pipe once more.

Calvi paused for a moment to take a sip of his coffee. It was excellent, rich and almost strong enough to make him gasp. He glanced out of the window, at the crowds gathered outside, then set the cup down again to concentrate on his bots.

It wasn’t long until they had reached the top of the pipe, and he navigated them into the gutter that ran along the side of the building they were climbing. From there, it was a simple piece of navigation to the rooftop itself.

“Would you like to see the menu while you wait?” asked a helpful waiter. Calvi set the phone down, furrowing his brow as he looked at the empty chair next to him.

“Sure,” he said, with a slight tone of annoyance. The waiter smiled at him sympathetically. Not the first person he’ll have seen stood up on a date, thought Calvi.

He drummed his fingers for a moment, his attention caught again by the activity outside the window. The crowd was cheering now. It must be getting closer to the time for the ceremony to begin.

Calvi picked up his phone again. The bots were sitting patiently where he’d left them, waiting for his instructions. He tapped them back into life, and off they marched, a tiny convoy of miniature machines, across the rooftop. Each had a slightly different shape, but all followed his instructions neatly and with ease. It really was a very well-designed app, Calvi thought.

They reached the far edge of the roof, and the bots quickly swarmed up the parapet there. Once there, he opened up a sub-menu. A range of actions were available there, and he tapped the “Assemble” button.

First, a quartet of bots at the front braced themselves against the parapet, while a group at the back formed a pillar for the others to rest on. Then, one by one, the rest formed a bridge, clicking into place until they started to form a familiar shape. A long tube formed, with a single bot inside, and another bot clambered on top, before lying in place with a click.

A pop-up appeared on his phone screen, but Calvi set the phone to one side for a moment as the waiter arrived with the menu. He leafed through it for a moment, then ordered a steak, and a glass of red wine to go with it. He smiled and handed back the menu.

Outside, the cheering had quieted a moment, as the crowd stilled enough for the speakers at the ceremony to be heard. Calvi returned to his app and tapped the pop-up.

The bot at the top provided a camera view. Calvi found himself looking down on a square. A joystick control at the bottom allowed him to move the view around. With each movement, the pillar of bots at the back shifted position accordingly. Finally, Calvi was happy with the location. He was looking down at a stage, and as he watched, a man stepped onto the central platform, waving to the audience gathered there. With a tap of the button, the camera view became crosshairs. Calvi took another sip of his coffee and then, with the man located in the centre of the crosshairs, he tapped a red button on the screen.

Outside the restaurant, the sounds of cheers turned into the sound of screams. Calvi glanced out of the window at the panic and horror as people ran, or pointed in shock at the ceremony platform. Satisfied, Calvi clicked the disassemble button. The bots slowly took themselves apart, breaking up the rifle they had been moments before. They would retrace their path, and later Calvi would pick up the box they had been placed in at the bottom of an old drainpipe. All but one, the one from the rifle barrel, which was now nestled in the heart of the president, where he lay on the stage outside. That bot was following its own programming, moving inside its target to maximize damage.
Smiling, Calvi turned off the app, and finished the rest of his cup. It really was excellent coffee.

THE END

Find me on Goodreads - and ask me a question

Like most authors, you can find me over at Goodreads. Click here to swing on over and find me. Also like most authors, I'm always happy to answer questions from those who follow my work. One of the nice things about Goodreads is that you can pitch questions to authors and see what they say - and here are the questions I've answered so far over there. Feel free to ask more - either in the comments below or over on the site. And hey, tell me about your work too if you're an author, would love to hear more. 

You list two of my three favorite SciFi authors of the 20th Century as influences (Asimov and Clarke). Ever read any Robert A. Heinlein? If so, why does he not make your list?

Leo McBride I love Heinlein too, without a doubt. It's funny, a couple of my stories have had Heinlein mentioned as an apparent influence so maybe he's in there in the back of my brain nudging away at how I write without me thinking about it. I think probably in terms of listing the influences, I came to reading Asimov and Clarke earlier - I was reading their work before I was a teenager, while I came to Heinlein a little later, more in my 20s. And I guess that early connection is what stuck with me. How there haven't been more movies based on Heinlein's work is beyond me, though! Fantastic writer.

flag

• Like 
 
• Comment

Are you an organized, outline the book, then write it with full research writer or a write by the seat of your pants then fix any issues later writer?

Leo McBride A little from column A, a little from column B. I wouldn't say I rigidly plan the outline - but I do start with a solid idea of where I'm going to end up and some of the beats along the way. But then I start to write and see where I go with the wiggle room that I've got. That can bring some surprises along the way - in the short story The Last Sorceror, for example, one of the characters took certain actions that shocked me as I was writing them but completely fit her character. Had I planned that, I probably wouldn't have put that on paper, but her actions were a natural outgrowth of the situation in the process of writing. So, a structure, certainly, but with room to change things around on the fly.

flag

• Like 
 
• Comment

Do you prefer to write short stories or full-length novels? What do you find are the major differences between the two when you write them, besides length?

Leo McBride Hmm, good question - I think I probably enjoy the writing process for short stories more, but prefer the full-length process (that I'm still working on!). The short form you can have fun with, dive into a story, create a world quickly and tell one story, one moment in time. The longer from requires, I find, more thought, more planning and connecting the dots to tell the larger story. Not sure how good I am at that yet, we'll see when the first novel is done!

flag

• Like 
 
• Comment

You mention that your works fall into SciFi, Fantasy and/or Horror. If they tend to straddle those genres, how much 'Horror' is too much to insert into the others - specifically SciFi?

Leo McBride Good question! I tend to find horror overlapping quite often - in Lazarus Soldiers, for example, I have cloned soldiers fighting against a surging mass of cloned flesh, while an in-progress story called Skitter has a sci-fi tale set in the sewers of New York. There are sci-fi greats throwing in horror elements too, of course, from HP Lovecraft to the first Alien movie, that haunted house in space where we first meet Ripley. I like the unknown, and that unknown can be in the far future or the here and now, but the unknown is reaching out into the dark, and never quite knowing what it is you will find there.

flag

• 1 Like · Like 
 
• Comment

What science do you find most intriguing?

Leo McBride Theoretical physics - the possibilities that it offers for ways to understand our universe are simply breathtaking, and the storytelling options that go with them if I can only get my head around them!

flag

• 1 Like · Like 
 
• Comment

Which of your characters do you identify with the most and why?

Leo McBride Ooh, good question. Hm, oddly enough probably the old man in A Place To Rest from my collection Quartet. All he wants is to be left on his own while everyone around him is constantly badgering him, to the point where he runs away to find peace. I've had those days!

flag

• 1 Like · Like 
 
• Comment

What have you found to be most useful in improving your writing?

Leo McBride To be honest, the writers around me that I've connected with. It's really incredibly useful to have those outside eyes looking in on your work, and makes you more focused on the habits you might have in your writing to try to iron out. I've also really enjoyed writing for the Inklings Press anthologies, as they tend to force me to write outside my comfort zone rather than falling back on the same format.

flag

• 2 Likes · Like 
 
• Comment

You live in a beautiful place. Do you see nature as a source of inspiration?

Leo McBride Sometimes as a source of calm! But more I draw on the culture around me as a source of inspiration - the people and the myths of the landscapes I've lived in. But the beauty of the place sure helps to remind me to take the time to enjoy the world around me!

flag

• 2 Likes · Like 
 
• Comment

Who are your favourite authors, and which of them has been the biggest influence on your writing?

Leo McBride Without a doubt, Ray Bradbury is my favourite author, but I couldn't honestly say he's been a big influence - just because he is so, so good at what he does. With writing, it's sometimes like watching a magic trick, sometimes you can see how the trick works - but then along comes Bradbury and conjures a dinosaur out of thin air. So for me, I would say perhaps some of the closer influences might be people such as Stephen King and Robert Heinlein, where I've consciously sat down and tried to figure out parts of their work and how they go about it. And of course HG Wells, who is such an influence he becomes a character in The Secret War!

flag

• 2 Likes · Like 
 
• Comment

When will we be getting more Percy stories?

Leo McBride Writing one this weekend ;)

flag

• 2 Likes · Like 
 
• Comment

What is your biggest challenge with writing?

Leo McBride Time, to be honest. My regular job is a very busy one, with barely a spare moment. I'm a journalist and I can be working on up to 20 pages a night on a regular basis. That can discipline me to get on with things more easily when I have the opportunity, but it is a non-standard job, with unusual hours and little in the way of down time. So when I do get a little block of time to sit and write, it's a real treat!

flag

• 1 Like · Like 
 
• Comment

What is the most inspiring comment that anyone has ever made regarding your writing?

Leo McBride I think probably not so much a comment as someone naming a pet after my character Percy because the character meant so much to them. That was very sweet indeed.

flag

• 3 Likes · Like 
 
• Comment

What made you decide to write short fiction over longer forms?

Leo McBride I'm working on the longer ones - a novel is in progress (more than one, really, but one in particular). Before that, getting short stories out in the wild seemed a good way of introducing people to my work, and to start learning about the publishing industry too. There's a lot to understand about marketing, the process of publishing a book, cover design, editing and so on - and I hope that I'll be better prepared when the novel is complete to give it a better chance of gaining the audience I think it deserves because of the short stories I've published. Apart from that, the short form is fun - it lets you dabble in lots of different worlds!

flag

• 1 Like · Like 
 
• Comment

Where do you get your inspiration from?

Leo McBride The gods of rum and whiskey! No, seriously, I tend to think about what kind of story I'm planning to write first - I think about the genre, and the kinds of story that can exist within that genre, and what I want to tell. For example, for the story In The Stars, We Learned To Soar, I wanted to explore how a Romany community would interact in a spaceborne environment. I try to think about elements I've perhaps not seen explored, or to put a twist on familiar concepts. How successful I am? Goodness knows!

flag

• 2 Likes · Like 
 
• Comment

What is your advice for aspiring writers?

Leo McBride Accept you're not perfect at the start, and understand that criticism can make you better. Listen to that as advice, not as something personal, and work out what you can take from it to let your writing grow.

flag

• 1 Like · Like 
 
• Comment

Are we living in an alternate reality now?

Leo McBride As the great philosopher Frederick Mercury once opined... "Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy?"

I must admit, I'm not convinced by the multiple realities theories, the multiverses with a split with every decision. If so, I'm creating universes just by every word I choose to type here.

flag

• 5 Likes · Like 
 
• 1 Comment

Do you like badgers?

Leo McBride I couldn't say, I've never eaten a whole one!

flag

• 4 Likes · Like 
 
• 2 Comments

Who is your favorite fictional couple, and why?

Leo McBride I'm not a big reader of romance, so let me give an answer that would be absolutely the wrong answer on dating sites and such. No happy ever after here, but the sheer agony of the tormented relationship between Heathcliff and Cathy in Wuthering Heights makes for great reading. The tension and pain at the heart of that relationship is so intense, so passionate, and yet at the same time so disfunctional. So yes, not the sweet fairytale couple by any means, but one of the great stories of English literature as a result.

flag

• 1 Like · Like 
 
• Comment

Hi , this Might be a very stupid question. considering I have not had a proper book launch , and will be having one very soon. What should Or would I expect? . Is there a talk that would be involved. What? should or not be included. and anything else that I can expect. Thank you for your time

Leo McBride Hi Rosemary - I don't know if your book launch is in the real world or on Facebook, but I would suggest including a bit of an author Q&A. Recruit a friend to pose some questions and moderate questions from the audience, be it in the room or online, and give a shout out to fellow authors who might be dropping in. I've only done launches online before, but it certainly helps pass the time as you see how the launch is going, and is great to be able to thank people who have shown up to support. Giveaways of copies might be a thing to include too, to reward visitors. Hope that helps, but nudge me by all means if I can help more!

flag

• 1 Like · Like 
 
• 1 Comment

How do you deal with bad reviews and unfair criticism?

Leo McBride Well, unfair criticism is easy to shrug off, because it's unfair! That kind of thing tells you more about the critic than the author. Bad reviews? Listen to them, I say, take on board what they are saying. Some of the criticism may be valid, some may not, but what better way to learn your craft than to listen to those who point out things you do that may not work? Regardless, people who have taken the time to read your work and comment on it deserve your respect, whether they have liked it or not.

flag

• 9 Likes · Like 
 
• 2 Comments

How do you deal with writer’s block?

Leo McBride Rum, angst and growling at the empty screen until words form of their own volition.

flag

• 2 Likes · Like 
 
• Comment

What’s the best thing about being a writer?

Leo McBride Definitely when someone likes what you've written and lets you know - it's a little bit brilliant!

flag

• 2 Likes · Like 
 
• Comment

What’s your advice for aspiring writers?

Leo McBride I count myself as an aspiring writer still so I'm still looking for lots of advice myself - I think I would say that listening is important, but also understanding that while all criticism is valid on the part of the person giving it, not all of it needs to be embraced as a writer. Choose the good advice from the bad, but listen to it all to discern what helps your work and what does not.

flag

• 2 Likes · Like 
 
• 4 Comments

What are you currently working on?

Leo McBride I'm currently working on two novels - a long-simmering supernatural thriller about a police officer troubled with visions of the murders he's investigating and slowly uncovering the eerie reasons why; and Hocus Potus: a spooky comedy about a witch who becomes President of the United States.

flag

• 4 Likes · Like 
 
• Comment

How do you get inspired to write?

Leo McBride I've always written, in one form or another, ever since I was a kid. Sometimes that energy went into roleplaying games, sometimes it went into writing fiction. Inspiration doesn't always come easy, sometimes I sit there with a blank piece of paper having no clue what to write. Sometimes I find myself setting a challenge of writing in a particular genre, or a particular theme to get myself going. I have a ton of ideas simmering away - just needing time to sit down and write them all!

flag

• 1 Like · Like 
 
• Comment

Where did you get the idea for your most recent book?

Leo McBride Hi there,

So far, my published books have been short story collections - and the ideas for those come from far and wide! The novel I'm working on though, which sprang out of putting something together for National Novel Writing Month, was challenging myself to write something different, something with a bit of comedy. Add a dash of magic, and the swirl of election season going on and lo and behold, a story comes together of the President of the United States being a witch who got into power using magic... intending to do good, only to come up against the warlocks of the Senate.