Dispatch dated February 2003

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Dispatch dated February 2003.

'Amy-Faith & the Stronghold' is complete, all 400+ pages of it, and the heroine has learned wisdom, made a discovery, taken revenge and changed the Universe for ever. Not bad for a 13 year old. Also the best thing I've ever written, though I say it myself …

Now it goes to a ruthless reviewing committee and then back again for JAW revision. And then, who knows …

But what is it about ( something I've not really mentioned before ) ?

Well, it's a sort of fantasy fable - young, down-trodden heroine stumbles upon an infinite fortress which travels the worlds and times in conflict with an ancient enemy. The Null ( see 'The Royal Changeling' and all my books onwards ) reappear in universe overwhelming form, strange places are visited and fought over and Amy-Faith, said heroine, has a wild and interesting time, far removed from her workhouse-orphan destiny. In short, the whole thing is a enjoyable new departure for me, and there's room and ideas-to-bursting for sequels.

I also haven't forgotten those aforementioned 'drippingly sensual' alternative Oxford short stories either. The trouble is my thoughts are also being barracked by another, as yet half formed, tale about a faithful ( or maybe waveringly faithful ) Imam of a falling-down, lazily-persecuted mosque somewhere in the Asiatic tassels of the Soviet Union, somewhen during President Brezhnev's ( late 1970s ? ) time. It would form a pair with 'In the Name of Allah, the Omnipotent ?' ( Interzone no. 135, September 1998 ) wherein a devout and humble Muslim clerk takes on the memory of terrible events in the Tunisian Embassy in Moscow. This tale is taken from 'real-life' in that the Tunisian Embassy is situated in the former residence of Stalin's amoral, murderous and foamy-mouthed sex-beast right-hand man, Lavrenti Beria. The poor Tunisians have actually petitioned the Russian authorities to be moved elsewhere because of the ghosts therein ...

I also want to revive my 'Sir Robert Holmes' short story series ( of which two, 'Mercy To None' and 'The Protestant Wind', are glittering and complete. Sir Robert ( 1622 - 1692 ) was a real-life historical figure, an Admiral and sort of licensed pirate who, amongst many other things, fought in the English Civil War, sailed with Prince Rupert into exile, started a couple of wars, burnt a whole Dutch merchant fleet ( 'Holmes' Bonfire' ), explored Africa, imported the first gorilla into England and pursued Mrs Pepys, much to her diarist husband's displeasure. He's also widely - but erroneously - recorded as the taker/renamer of New York from the Dutch. In later life he ended up as perpetual governor of the Isle of Wight, a large and strategic ( and lovely ) island off the south coast of England.

My stories visit him in crippled ( by arthritis ) but still bloodthirsty old age in his castle-home in Yarmouth, Isle of Wight. 'Mercy To None' has him dabbling in theology and supernatural endangered species conservation, whilst 'The Protestant Wind' sees him causing grief to one of my least favourite ( after Henry VIII ) 'English' Kings, William of Orange, and also disrupting the space/time continuum.

By the bye, one of my most prized possessions is a Henry VIII ashtray I picked up from a charity car-boot sale. I'm thereby enabled to snub out each and every smoko on the waiting Tudor monarch's fizzog

'Downs-Lord Doomsday' was published on 04/02/02 and, having an copy to hand, I can say it is a thing of beauty - to look at, at least. Others must speak for the quality of the contents ( I did my best ... ).

Kevin Jenkins' cover painting captures my inner-image of the 'New-Wessex' world perfectly. An illuminated paddle-steamer navigates the Nile past the majestic remains of an Egyptian temple, under stealthy bankside observation by a predatory Null.

Set alongside the other two volumes in the 'triptych', 'Doomsday's 'Egyptian-yellow' cover sits well alongside the South Downs-green of 'Dawn' and Channel sea-blue of 'Day'. They'd make a lovely boxed set seen spine-on.

Sadly, human nature being what it is, the feeling of satisfaction you get on handling your newly published book gradually diminishes with each successive volume. Familiarity breeds indifference. Likewise, as J K Rowling recently said during a BBC interview, there isn't - and cannot be - any experience to compare with that first phone call or letter to say you're going to be published ( with me it was a crowded hall at a convention in London, and the announcement, in Miss World, reverse-order style, of a literary competition result - but the principle's the same )

However, that said, I was exceedingly glad 'Downs-Lord Doomsday' has appeared and thus given me the opportunity to dedicate it - for all its imperfections - to the memory of my beloved Mother, Joan. RIP.

And so, except in imagination, I leave that world - but not her - behind.

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