Podcast fiction - Part II

Over the past few months I’ve become interested in the world of podcasting, so much so that I’ve grown into the habit of loading my MP3 player up with podcasts instead of music each time I go out walking. Usually I listen to sci-fi chit-chat, reviews and interviews - occasionally some fiction. I can’t shake the desire to experiment with it myself, so I’ve decided to record a story - one that I’ve just finished writing. It’s a tale I’ve mentioned previously (about zombies) and it’s called “Is There Anybody Out There?” I don’t have any pro recording gear, but I can make the recording pretty clean using Andy’s external camcorder mic, and add some atmosphere by dubbing in some creepy ambient music. MacIdol, where I host my music, has a feature that lets me count the number of downloads, so I should be able to gauge how successful this venture is. If successful enough, I might even get cracking on a serialised novel (podiobook, if you will).

Chionophobia is no more! That is, I’ve shortened the title to Chion. After looking at the original Greek carefully, I discovered that “chiono” is the word for snow, while “chion” means “like snow”. And that, frankly, is perfect for the title. It’s still a pain that no one’s going to know whether to pronounce the word as “chee-on,” “chy-on” or “ky-on,” but I think it looks a lot cooler on paper than Chionophobia. If you look up at the new logo, I’ve incorporated the original Greek in the design.

Editing is nearly done. My friend Earl, who has been learning the finer points of grammar for the past year, scrutinised every sentence in the manuscript for grammatical mishaps and style flaws. We spent about fifteen hours together incorporating his changes. I’m indebted to him for the time he put into it. Thanks also to Andy, Alison and Chris.

Some interesting podcasts you may wish to check out:
- Dragon Page
- Geek Fu Action Grip
- I Should Be Writing
- Requiem of the Outcast
- Kick-Ass Mystic Ninjas
- Escape Pod
- 7th Son by J.C. Hutchins

Chionophobia at the proof-reading stage

Got the ball rolling again with Chionophobia. After investing the whole of Saturday and most of Monday, I’ve completed my major edit. You know, any professional authors out there will have to pardon my ignorance, but I’ve never really put into proper practice the terms “rewrite” or “second draft.” What exactly is a rewrite? Is a writer supposed to say, “Okay, I’ve written my novel, but I know I can do it better second time round, so I’m going to start it all over again”? I can’t help thinking this is a piece of ancient terminology from a time when authors used typewriters; they had to type their manuscripts out a second and a third time, because there was no such thing as a delete key to fix mistakes and make improvements. Nowadays, we have word processors; we can change a word here, amend a phrase there, move whole paragraphs about. To me, the editing process is all tweak, tweak, tweak, on the first and only draft I write. I don’t subscribe to the idea that the first version of anything you write is always dreadful. And yet I’ve listened to interviews where writers talk about throwing pages upon pages of prose in the bin, because something’s not quite working. My motto is that if I plan well, I’ll write well. The idea for Chionophobia sat in my head for years before I put a single word down; I didn’t begin until I had the story fully formed.

I’ve now sent the manuscript off to six friends who are willing to proof-read: Alison Quin, Andrew Campbell, Andrew Harrison, Earl Keith, Mark Stevens, Chris Winter. You’ll notice there’s a lady on the team. I’ve heard that it’s hard for men to write women characters, and vice versa. An old girlfriend of mine once chuckled at finding some really “blokey” elements in my writing, so I’m counting on Alison to let me know if I’m making any blunders with my strong female lead character.

By the way, I’m still open to suggestions from anyone on a better title for this story about genetically-modified snow.

Chionophobia cover design - Part III

More than one person suggested that the dead kid on my design needed more work to make him blend into the photo. And the main problem with Mark’s design seemed to be the need for something extra, such as a child’s hand on the snow, or a shadow falling over the picture.

I’m torn between my own design and Mark’s, so I’ve had a go at designing a hybrid version of the two (click picture to expand). Usually that’s a bad approach, because you’ll end up with two scenes competing for the viewer’s attention, but because Mark’s design is so subtle, I think it works.

I spent one whole morning going through the entire database at 1001 Free Fonts. What I was looking for was something clear, futuristic, and exuding a sense of threat. I’m trying out a font called Ethnocentric, which appealed to me from yesterday’s Mind’s Eye cover design. I think it strikes a good balance between clarity and style.

My friend Earl had this to say about an early version of the hybrid cover: “A monstrous mutation of the two, almost Frankensteinian in nature.” Cheek! Actually his point is well taken. After several revisions, I’m now getting good reports from all parties about this design, so I think I’ve nailed it.

Chionophobia cover design - Part II

My stateside friend Mark Stevens just gave me a wonderful surprise. What you’re looking at is Mark’s own design for a Chionophobia cover (click the image for a larger version). It’s totally different from my approach. I love the simplicity of the design, and the blood-spatter is the perfect touch (little did Mark know that this aspect ties in very well with a particular scene from the novel). The only thing I don’t like is the text. Other than that, I think the design is terrific, and I might end up using it (or a variaton on it). Thanks, Mark!

Chionophobia cover design

I’ve done a little dabbling with Photoshop, just to get some of my thoughts for the cover design of Chionophobia down. I’m aiming for something very white, with the school building in the background and a schoolboy face down in the snow in the foreground.

Another element I wanted to incorporate was the words “HELP 700 NEED FOOD” written on the lawn. A friend pointed out that the most prominent thing on the help message is the word “food,” which looks a bit daft and conveys about as much drama as a loaf of bread. So, I’ve used a little artistic licence and shortened the message to simply “HELP.” I’ve also splashed some red (the colour of danger) into the design, because all that white looked very stark and depressing.

It may not be good to judge a book by its cover, but the cover is exactly what makes people lift it off shelf. I think I’m starting off in the right direction.

An excerpt from my forthcoming novel, Chionophobia

Here’s the first ever public excerpt from my forthcoming novel, Chionophobia. I may post a larger chunk closer to publishing time, but for now, here’s how the story gets rolling:

Chapter 1: Screamers
You would expect to hear the occasional scream, when you spent seven hours a day, five days a week, in this place. But you’d know it was nothing serious; just a couple of hyperactive boys getting a little too zealous in their horseplay, or maybe two quarrelling girls pulling the hair out of each other. With fifty classrooms in Clounagh Junior High School, all connected by long, thin corridors, it wasn’t difficult for sound to travel. And with six hundred and fifty children aged eleven to fourteen in varying degrees of hyperactivity, there was a high likelihood that, every now and then, you’d hear scream or two coming from another part of the building, and it wouldn’t alarm you.

But fourteen-year-old Jamie Metcalfe was alarmed, so alarmed that he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. The other pupils in room twenty-two had the same reaction; they abruptly stopped moving and speaking, despite the break-time bell having rung less than a minute ago, causing everyone to burst into chatter and fuss with their schoolbags.

These were not the usual sort of screams; these conjured up pictures in Jamie’s mind of a certain kind of story you’d see infrequently on the news: the report of a maniac coming into a school wielding a gun.

The muffled quality of the screams made it seem like whatever was happening was not taking place right outside the room, but was not very far away, either. It seemed as if there were as many as five people making noise. The shrieks were loud and gravelly, enough to make anyone hoarse. At a lower volume, but audible in the gaps between the screams, were terrified sobs.

The sensible thing to do was stay put, but it was only a matter of time before curiosity got the better of someone. And within a few seconds Alex Vennard dashed for the door.

Mr Reed, who had been mesmerised like the rest of the class, came to his senses. “Alex, don’t go out there!”

It was too late. Like cattle, everyone streamed out after Alex, creating a bottleneck at the door, as pupils tried to squeeze past each another.

“Stay inside! It might not be safe!” Mr Reed protested, but his words fell on deaf ears.

Jamie was the last pupil to exit the room. Everyone else had formed a line along the corridor windows, their faces gazing downward.

Room twenty-two was on the upper floor of the school. Panes of glass all along one side of the corridor overlooked the playground below.

“I don’t get it,” someone said.

“This is weird,” another remarked.

“What’s wrong with them?”

Jamie squeezed between two pupils and peered down, seeing just what he expected: the school playground, a carpet of pure, seamless white, shining so bright that he had to squint. The snow had fallen during period one, and had kept going for about an hour and fifteen minutes, ceasing as abruptly as it had started. It wouldn’t provide much depth on the ground, but a snowball was a snowball regardless of how much work you had to do to pack it together. The pupils had watched the flakes fall beyond the classroom windows. Some of the girls had oohed and ahhed, and everyone was looking forward to getting outdoors and pelting each other senseless.

When Jamie’s eyes adjusted to the brightness, he saw the focus of everyone’s attention. From this vantage point, he could see the foyer jutting out of the building and the doors which led to the playground standing open. Seven pupils were lying in the snow, just outside those doors. They had their coats and gloves on, were screaming and writhing, but seemed unable to move much, as if wounded. Just inside the doors, a crowd had gathered.

“Why don’t they get up?” Claire Forbes asked. “Have they been injured?”

“Injured by what?” Jamie wondered. “I was thinking it was somebody with a gun, but we didn’t hear shots or anything.”

“Silencer?” Alex suggested.

“Don’t be daft!” Daniel Richards objected. “You’ve been watching too much CSI.”

“Have you got a better idea?”

“Look at everybody,” Claire said. “Why are they just standing there? Why doesn’t somebody go out and help them?”

“They’re afraid of being shot,” Alex suggested.

“If they were afraid of being shot, they wouldn’t be standing in the doorway,” Jamie said.

Beyond the windows in the foyer, he could see the crowd growing steadily. The mass suddenly surged, pushing five persons - three of them teachers - through the doors, where each one of them immediately tripped, landing in heap on top of the other casualties. They started struggling, but couldn’t seem to stand up.

Jamie caught sight of something in particular about one of the pupils in the snow: a red and white striped woolly hat that he’d given to someone special for Christmas last month.

Mr Reed piped up. “Whatever’s going on, it looks serious. Now will everyone please go back into the room so that I can - Jamie! Get back here!”

Jamie Metcalfe kept running, shoving his way past pupils from other classes who had also come out for a look, having heard the screams.

Chionophobia finished!

In one final burst of activity over the past few days, I’ve finished the first draft of Chionophobia. It turned out two thousand words longer than expected, and I’ve got a few earlier bits to amend, which should bring it up to 38,000. I’m glad the story pushed itself beyond what I expected, because 35,000 was uncomfortably short for a novel.

As for what prompted this sudden burst of activity, I can put that down to Adrian Andrews, who runs The League of Freemen, the official user group for the sci-fi TV series The Tripods. Adrian and I got talking about my partially written Tripods novella The Freedom Triangle (see my post dated 14 August 2005 for more on this). Derivative fiction is a copyright nightmare, but Adrian has some good contacts and seemed to think it might be possible to get permission to publish. He asked me to prioritise getting the thing into written form. I was enthused about this, but I’d put so much effort into Chionophobia that I couldn’t bear to put it on the back-burner. The only option was to get it done. Voila!

I’m estimating a release for this book around September 2006. That might seem like an unnecessarily long gap, but it’s important to put a great deal of work into the editing stage of a book’s creation.

Chionophobia progress

Chionophobia progress

I’ve noticed some writers adding progress meters to their writing projects. There are several to choose from, but I thought this one was the most fun, as it also allows you to feature your mood (from Writertopia).

New novel back on track

Work is finally back underway on the new novel, after a three-month break due to the pressures of the day-job. Actually, if I’m honest, it was more due to hitting a snag in the story. I overcame it by simply letting the scene play out in its own way as I wrote it, and I liked what happened. We’re sitting at around 26,000 words now, and it feels like I’m three quarters done.

Title change

The White Cage is OK as a title, but OK is not good enough. I’ve always been conscious that I need something with a little more intrigue or style. I hit on the perfect title yesterday evening, whilst surfing the net for ideas: Chionophobia. It doesn’t look like much on paper (in fact, it looks totally confusing at first), but when you know the phonetics, it rolls nicely off the tongue. Chiono is a Greek word which is pronounced ky-o-no. And since there’s a movie called Arachnophobia, I figure I can get away with Chionophobia. If you want to know what it means, take a look at www.phobialist.com. While you’re at it, look up Bogyphobia; you won’t believe some of the weird fears that have been given official medical names.

20,000 words and climbing

Aarghh! I’m back at work today, and on a Friday to boot (first day for teachers). Hope it’s a good year ahead at Clounagh Junior High School. My cousin has a step-daughter who’s starting the school next week. I was talking to her and her friend Cherie last night about their new school and I learned that they’ve both read Ulterior. It’s always a nice surprise for me when I encounter people I didn’t know were readers. Both girls had read the book in one day flat. I am constantly amazed by how many people who’ve told me the same thing. (”Wanted to get the torture over quickly,” my friend Earl says.) This is the first year since Ulterior’s publication that I won’t be able to sell the book to the new kids; I just haven’t got enough copies left.

Crossed the 20,000-word barrier on The White Cage yesterday. The 40,000 words on the front of the website is an estimated total length. I’ve just shrunk that to 35,000. It’s just a feeling; I could be wrong. I’m uncomfortable publishing anything less than 40,000 words, so I’m giving more thought to compiling a short story collection with The White Cage as an included novelette - the way Stephen King’s Skeleton Crew is structured. Too early to decide yet.

Cruising steadily

Just had a great week. I decided to use up some of my annual leave holidays and dedicate a week to writing, free from the constraints of regular nine-to-five work. Each day I managed to write between 800 and 3,000 words. and the total word-count now stands at respectable 16,300. When writing a novel, you start off thinking, “This book might happen,” and somewhere along the way you reach the point where you think, “This book will happen.” Well, I’ve reached that point. I’m really excited about The White Cage. So excited that I’m going to take another week off work and keep going. Hell of a way to use up your holidays, some might think. But it suits me.

The only downside is that I’m neglecting my household chores to some extent. I can just about bring myself to do the washing up once a day (or every other day). And the dust is sitting so thick on the floors I’m waiting to see tumbleweed drifting by soon. Oh, the advantages of living alone, that no one has to see it and nag my ass off. (And yes, I am sitting here in clean underwear, in case you were wondering.)

Sequel-itis

I discovered a way to turn The White Cage into a sequel to Ulterior. It seems wrong to force something like this onto a story which, on the surface, has little in common with my first novel, but there’s a couple of good reasons why it should be this way.

(1) Both novels are set in the same location, Clounagh Junior High School, and both involve large-scale disaster. When you’ve got some of the same characters (teachers) inhabiting both stories, it doesn’t make sense to make the events of one story contradict the other. I’m a big fan of the notion of making all of your fiction take place within the same version of reality. Stephen King does this a lot, such as Pennywise the clown from It showing up for a cameo in The Tommyknockers. I’ve lost count of how many cross references I’ve spotted in his fiction, but I love it when they happen.

(2) The original sequel to Ulterior, which I have partially planned, doesn’t quite work yet. But it occurred to me that it works a lot better when it takes place after the world-altering events of The White Cage. So, we might well be talking about an Ulterior trilogy here.

Marketing-wise this makes me very happy, too. The trouble with sequels is that you can never sell more copies than book #1. But The White Cage will also work as an independent story, so I’m not limited that way. And if it is purchased by enough people who don’t know about Ulterior, it could justify a reprint of book #1.

I’m running out of Ulterior books fast. Less than forty left out of the original thousand.

New novel in the works

Yesterday, I knuckled down to writing the first chapter of a new novel, around 600 words. But today, the writing bug really took hold and I churned out almost 3000 words. I was quite apprehensive about getting this one off the ground because some of the details were quite sketchy in my mind. Now I’m realising that’s a dumb attitude, because you never fully realise a novel until it’s written, and seeing it all gradually come together is the whole excitement of the writing process. I’m really pleased with this one so far.

Like Ulterior, it’s another Clounagh Junior High novel, but completely unconnected from the first novel. I’ve been toying with various titles. One that I like is White, but that’s already a novel by Tim Lebbon. Another I like is The White Cage, but my current preference is Snowball in Hell. The idea is one I came up with a couple of years ago, whilst out walking in the snow at night. And like all good ideas, it gets better with age. I’ll not give much away about the story at this stage, suffice to say that it has something to do with snow. The first line of the book is In school, everyone can hear you scream. No prizes for guessing that this sentence is a variation on the tagline from the movie Alien: In Space, no one can hear you scream.

The story feels novella length to me at the moment, so I’ll have a decision to make later whether to publish it as a novella or as part of a short story collection.