A little literary diversion - Chapter 1: Gabriel's Game

My theme for 2015 is 

The Authorpreneur Almanac:

365 Adventures in Writing and Entrepreneurship

Tips, ideas, inspiration and features for writers who are also entrepreneurs aka Authorpreneur's

I've had several lovely people tell me that they've read Solomon's Secrets, were hooked and now want to read the next one. 

Well, I'm afraid I'm still writing the next book, Gabriel's Game. 


Gabriel's Game will be two books in one. The first novella is; 

Gabriel's Game, Part 1: The White Queen 

I estimate it will be published around Easter 2015.

The second novella will be;  

Gabriel's Game, Part 2: The Black Knight 

Estimated for completion in 2016   

But it is horrible having to wait for something, so here's a special treat for you. It's only the first draft, so may change a little, but here is the first chapter of 

Gabriel's Game, Part 1: The White Queen 

 

Nicosia, August 2014

Clive Owen as Tom Sheridan (source: www.flickr.com)

Tom Sheridan pushed himself from the chair and shook his legs out, wrung his hands, rolled his shoulders and made for the window.

Sat for hours, he’d slept there last night, only got up once to go to the bathroom and drink a bland vending machine coffee from a polystyrene cup.

At the window, he could feel the heat of the day building and filtering in through the blinds. He twiddled the plastic pole and the louvers opened, painting stripes of warm daylight across the bedroom. He squinted against the brightness, yawned and rubbed his chin, scratching at three days’ worth of growth. He ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his hands through it, ruffling it, it felt sweaty and heavy on his scalp. Everything felt heavy.

The chemical stench of the hospital seeped into his skin, he looked away from the view over the dusty car park and looked down at himself. He sniffed and turned his nose up, “Ew!” his own body odour masked by the stench of sickness in the air.

These last days had been a haze. His life, such as it had been, was on hold. He’d come back to Cyprus as soon as the doctor called, flown in on the first available flight. The doctor had said she’d regained consciousness briefly and asked one question; ‘Where’s Tom?’

He shook his leaden limbs out with a deep sigh and looked back across the room. A few seconds to breathe, then time to resume his vigil.

She hadn’t moved. The blue waffle blanket continued to lift and fall steadily, the low regular beep of machinery always in the background, white noise, he hardly noticed its rhythm. It had been constant and steady since he’d arrived from London - it was a good thing, it meant her condition was stable.

Tendrils of wires and tubes trussed her into the bed, her mass of blonde curls spilling out over the pillows, taking root, part of the machine. 
He crossed the room, her features frozen in time. As he approached, her eyelids flickered. He hesitated, immobilised by the sudden change. A change so minute he questioned whether he’d imagined it. Closer, he dragged the chair to the bed, fell into it and shuffled forwards, a mounting sadness raking up his throat. Slumping over, he rested his head on the folds of the blanket and it let it loll against her hip.

Moisture blurred his vision. Tears gathered on his lashes and swelled in his throat. A globe rolled down his cheek, traced a path around his jaw.

“I’m so sorry, Sasha,” he mumbled.

More tears chased the first. He swept them aside, swallowed them back. This wasn’t the time, he had to focus. He had work to do and an impossible choice to make.

Despite getting plenty of sleep, he was weary, his strength fading, anxiety and despair sapping his energy. His eyes drifted closed and he breathed in the residue of her familiar smell, nuzzling his face against her, a pet seeking affection. He wanted to feel close to her, to connect to her silent body, to know that she was still in there, fighting. Always fighting.

He was jolted awake by something knocking his shin. He glanced down, it was his rucksack. Whatever he decided, the tools of his trade were all in there.

Should he run? Should he carry out his orders? Should he take her with him?

My Characters  

I'm sure many writers picture particular actors when they imagine their characters. If you can imagine who might play your hero's and heroine's if your story ever became a movie, it can be a really helpful way to describe the way your characters talk, move and carry themselves. 

When I imagine Tom Sheridan, I see Clive Owen.

I find it useful to have a Pinterest board of all the actors in my stories open on one screen as I write on the other. 

If my latest book, Gabriel's Game, ever were made into a movie this cast list would be amazing!

  Follow Amy Morse's board Gabriel's Game: Characters on Pinterest.

Marketing your book is like making a pizza and other stories...

There have been some traces of spring in the air in Bristol this week and it's starting to feel like one chapter is coming to an end in my life and another is starting to bud. 

With still no concrete assurances of further funding for Outset Bristol, where I work as an Enterprise Coach with start ups, I'm willing March to be over so I can start making some future plans.

Operation Author - 

365 Actions to Succeed as an Author

I never grow tired of seeing my words in print, which is probably a good sign that I should focus my energies into carving some sort of a path for myself as a writer.

My career has always involved supporting others to find and nurture their skills and strengths, whether in finding work or starting a business, and I have always got a great deal of satisfaction out of enabling others. I'm working towards some blending of the these two aspects that I'm so passionate about. I am a great believer that strengthening communities and enabling people to support each other is the future.

My actions this week have been:

Action 1:

I ran a pilot 'Why Marketing your Book is Like Making a Pizza: A Workshop for Writers' session, which of course included pizza!

There were eight of us on the session and it was a great success. Loads of energy in the room and lots of great ideas flowing. The feedback was positive and I discussed some ideas with the group about running a session on Social Media for Writers and a follow up session to the marketing one where we share our progress and draw up future actions plans together. 

My work with Outset over the past few years has shown me the power of peer support and it's something I want to do more of.

Action 2:

I've agreed to be part of a blog tour so I will be posting my link in that chain next week but I am seeking 2 other writers who would like to participate...

Action 3:

Calling all writers! - Who'd like to be involved in a blog tour?

The idea is that on your blog you answer 4 questions about your own writing then post bios of 3 more writers and links to their blogs. They then do the same, posting answers to the same questions on their blog a week later and sharing 3 other writers blogs.

Tweet me if you'd like to be involved @TomCatDesigns and I'll send you more details.

Action 4:

I joined Authonomy and posted some chapters from the Bronze Box 

Action 5:

I've helped some other writers with their market research this week by answering their questions. Viv Oyolu, the fabulous lady who interviewed me recently, is researching some ways her Audiobyte business can support writers.

Here's the interview if you missed it. It's a really inspiring listen with lots of tips and friendly banter:

 http://www.audio-byte.co.uk/amy-morse/

Action 6:

I am now officially a columnist for Prowess Women in Business - http://www.prowess.org.uk/columnists - so I am committed to writing for them regularly. I've just submitted another article so look out for that one.

Action7:

I've submitted a guest blog to a fellow Bristol writer and friend of mine, Maggie James. Maggie is a very talented and prolific writer of psychological suspense fiction. 

Fingers crossed she likes my post and publishes it on her fascinating blog: http://www.maggiejamesfiction.com/blog.html


Update on the next book - Solomon's Secrets:

I've got two chapters to go on Solomon's Secrets so I'm hoping to get the first draft done this week.

I've been thinking about cover art for my books and have engaged the services of my brother who's a very talented artist and musician. I've been doodling myself too, looking ancient symbolism. 

Here's a snippet from the book and a doodle:

Operation Author - Week 6

Six weeks into my mission:

Operation Author - 

365 Actions to Succeed as an Author

My seven actions this week have been a mix of online, real world and setting up future events

Day 1 - I'm so close to the end of Solomon's Secrets, it's most inconvenient having a job and life outside of writing! 

With this terrible wet weather, all I really want to do is stay in my warm house and write. I've been snatching every available moment writing passages for the book. Here's a sample:

 

 I also tweaked chapter 1 and re wrote the book blurb and put it on my website: http://bit.ly/1jdpXqW

Day 2 - I went to 2 networking events in Bristol for work this week but while I was there I inevitably talked about my book and this Operation Author project. I made some interesting connections that are worth following up. And my picture was in the The Bristol Post - busted drinking wine on a school night! I'm the one in the flowery top:

Day 3 - I put a tweet out asking about gallery space in Bristol and have a couple of leads to follow up for my Project Book 365 exhibition.

Day 4 -  I was part of an Outset Bristol event on Social Media. Imogen Woodford of Social-i, gave a really engaging talk with some great visuals about using social media effectively for your business. 

She shared some really practical tips with the group and I made lots of notes. 

One thing I'm going to implement as a result of Imogen's advice is to have a plan. I'll look at the month ahead and note any key events, then establish a weekly plan. Now that I've discovered Hootesuite it will be easier to think ahead and schedule appropriate updates and tweets in between my usual browsing and conversing. Thanks Imogen! 

Day 5 - I sent a submission to Rachel at Writers Digest as they were calling for posts about writing groups.  I wrote about Southville Writers

Day 6 - I've not had much take up for the Marketing for Writers workshop or the book signing event at Hyrda Bookshop so I'm making some leaflets to distribute around Bristol while I'm out and about.

Day 7 - I emailed some writers in the Southville Writers network earlier in the week who had expressed an interest in marketing.  I'd given them until the end of the week to book in to my 'Why Marketing your Book is Like Making Pizza: A Workshop for Writers' session at The Stable.

I said I'd advertise the workshop wider but wanted to offer it to the network first. 

I've now put some wider advertising out through Gumtree and various Facebook and LinkedIn groups for writers.

At least I have no reason to leave the house today and venture into the storms.  Big mug of tea and get writing.

What are you writing at the moment?

Archived Inspiration

Before I wrote and published The Bronze Box (http://amzn.to/18C5gub) I wrote three books in a series I called The Chronicles of The Colony. Fantasy adventure stories set in the fictional world of The Colony.

I needed to write these books so that I could learn how to write books.

They are now archived away in a gloomy and dusty corner of my hard drive.

The first book, Running Free, evolved from a story that I started forming back when I was a teenager and it wasn't until a few years ago that I finally got around to writing it.

So here goes, here is an unreleased chapter from an unpublished book (what do you think?): 

 

My dear friend Hero,

        An absent friend is no less dear. 

I beseech you, go.  Return to The Kingdom for our enemy comes for us.

I have been in league with Houdini, and he warns me that Tornty intends to come for us, both of us. 

She wishes to deal for us - Our lives, for Scarroh’s.

Protect your family, protect yourself.  But for the love of Mother Earth do not let Tornty’s forces capture you, for it will only end in pain and humiliation. 

Carlton and Rascal will never give up the traitor Scarroh, even for us.  This is my only warning. 

I love you brother, flee, go now while there is time and may we be reunited in the home we love so dearly and fight side by side to defend it.

     Your loyal friend

        Myrchen

Hero

“Go, please.  Never look back.”

“No.  Please Hero no,” she pleaded, clutching to me desperately, falling to her knees as she begged me not to do it.

“You must!”  I insisted, though it broke my heart.

“Could we not come with you?  Surely we can find a home in Turnbaer.”

“It’s not safe.  For even now I hear rumours of the new King expelling all Bale-Orreans and Kharr-Attens.  It’s not safe for you,” I said, allowing the terror in my heart to embellish my words.  I asked so little of her, in all our years together, but this, needed her to do.

“But you serve the Kings brother, surely he would help us find sanctuary?  Please Hero, no.  Don’t do this to us.”

Angered now I shook her away from me.  Why could she not understand it?

“I must go!  It is my sworn duty.  I must fight with my kin,” feeling the burn of my honour and loyalty scorching my soul.  This was the hardest thing I would ever face and she was making it harder.  I wanted to shake her, I wanted to wail and cry, anything to convince her of the danger we were facing.

She was angry now, I could see the pulse of it in her eyes, as if her heart had surged into flame - she shouted her defiance.

“Duty?”  I’d never seen her beautiful face so twisted with wrath, “You speak of duty!  What about your duty to your family?”

“Rascal is my family.  Turnbaer is my home?”

“And me?  Your Children?  What are we?  Are we nothing to you?  Damn you Hero and your foolish pride!”  she spat the tirade.  Her fear, her desperation, her love for me, a noxious concoction that boiled and frothed in malice.  I know her well enough to realise that she felt betrayed by me.  I was killing her, but it was the only way I could save her precious life.

“Enough Martha!” I raised my hand to her, she cowered back, afraid I may strike her.  In my life I had never been so close to doing it.  Yet it was not her I wished to hurt for tearing this family to shreds.  She was not my enemy.

I softened, soothed my tone and stilled my fervour.

“Understand me.  Please,”  now it was I that begged.  I reached for her, but she backed away.

“I won’t hurt you!”  I was wounded that she may think me capable of hitting her in anger.

“You already have!”

She turned her back to me, and gazed out of the window into the flowing rains.  They pattered on the glass relentlessly, drumming out their misery, darkening our once happy home.

“Martha I…”  I walked to her, raised my hands to hold her and hesitated.

“You need to go,” I repeated.  “Go anywhere, you know where I keep the cash.  Take it, take it all, but just go.  Take the children and save yourselves.  I beg you.  Darling, please.”

“You cannot buy my submission with cash,” she responded defiantly.

“That’s not what I’m doing and you know it!”

She continued to face away from me.  My heart was tearing itself apart.  She must know that this was the last thing I could ever want?  To leave her and young daughters? 

If only the girls were here, but they were at Martha’s mothers house.  I wouldn’t have time to go and say goodbye, I would have to find another way to tell them how much their father loved them.  And I would pray to Mother Earth that I would see them again.

Martha was closing herself off now.  Refusing to argue any more and refusing to obey me. 

A crash of thunder, and seconds later a spear of lighting lit up her silhouette with a silver shimmer.  I saw her shuddering with sorrow.  Knowing she was silently sobbing, but unable to soothe her.  For the agony was too much to bear.  I longed to pull her into my arms and stay with her, to do my duty as a father and husband to protect her, but there was no escaping the fact that I was the biggest threat to them.  A wanted man who our enemies would never stop searching for.  I couldn’t risk Martha and the girls falling in the firing line.  Why did she not understand this? 

“I must go,” I sighed, grabbing my knapsack and dragging it wearily onto my shoulder, “Take only what you can carry and take the girls far away from here.  Promise me!” 

She nodded solemnly but still refused to look at me.

“Goodbye Martha,” I began to leave the room.  As I reached the door I paused, I glanced back at her perfect outline, shadowed against the window.

“I love you.” 

I turned, and left.

The rain was thankfully easing off as I stepped into the sneering night.  It dappled my hat, and I pulled the collar of my coat up and hunched my neck into it, trudging wretchedly down the path.

“Wait!”

I stopped and turned to see her chasing me down the path, the mud spattered up her skirt as she plunged towards me.

I let my knapsack slide down my arm and splat into the mud, and met her with my arms as she leapt into them.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me over and over on the cheeks. 

“I can’t bare to part on sour words,” she sobbed.

I clutched her tightly to me, folding her into my heart.  Nuzzling my face into her sweet neck, fragrant with her familiar scent.

“Promise me something Hero.”

“Anything.”

She tilted her head away and looked me hard in the eyes,

“You’ll be careful?  Come back to us.”

“I promise you.  I will do all I can.”

“I love you.” 

And with that, she squashed her lips into mine passionately and we enjoyed that final kiss goodbye.