Some of the most picturesque places on this island, like Port Arthur, are haunted by the past, distant and recent. Sarah Island’s wild beauty is haunted by the memory of the time when the entrance to its harbour was named “Hell’s Gates” by the unfortunate men who knew only too well the truth of the sobriquet. There are other giveaway names dotted around the island, like Gibbet Hill.
Even the most mundane locations contain eerily jarring remnants. At a local service club, the cold storage at the back of the kitchen looks odd and archaic, for good reason: it was originally the solitary confinement cell, when the building was a local lockup. The chill lurking behind its thick oak door seems not entirely natural.
Recently, though, a whole new window onto our haunted past has begun to come to life: reminders of a time when nearly all the common folk ardently believed in spirits and witches — and took measures to guard against them.
Well, not a lot has been happening, this past week. I haven’t been able to put as much time as I would like into my fiction, so the centaur futa story has only crawled forward, but at least I’m on the final chapter.
So, here’s another preview, just to keep you all posted.
This is the second of Dominic Piper’s Beckett novels, and the third and last that I read. I’m not entirely sure why I didn’t read them in publishing order, but the fact is that there’s nothing to stop you picking up any of these stories at random, and diving right in to Daniel Beckett’s London.
Daniel Beckett is as intimately familiar with the streets of London as Sherlock Holmes, without the cerebral aloofness; as hard-boiled as Philip Marlowe, without the nihilism; and even more successful with the ladies than James Bond, without the casual indifference.
Like Kiss Me When I’m Dead and Femme Fatale, Death is the New Black is a dazzling detective thriller. The mystery is engrossing, from the first pages, the villains are truly evil, without being cartoonish, and the stories are bursting with truly memorable characters.
Firstly, apologies for this update being behind schedule. It’s just me, I forget stuff. I need to set up a calendar, so I don’t.
But, anyway, I’ve been working on a new short — nothing related to anything else, just an idea that popped into my head, and I just had to start writing! I’ve barely planned this one, just the initial concept, and it’s more or less writing itself.
It’s a centaur futa erotica, set in a fantasy world, crossed with a Western. The Centaur With No Name, so to speak. Only, slinging swords instead of guns.
Well, I promised last week that I would post about my new story, but a bit of housekeeping first.
I’m still getting used to the fact that this is what I do for a living now: finding my feet, getting organised, blah blah. Part of that will be establishing a routine for managing the several projects I’m running all at once. I’ve decided (today) that Wednesdays will be Weekly Update Day for this blog. I’ll even hold myself to that.
Well, the first and best news I have to share is that I am now officially a professional writer!
I finally screwed my courage up, and kicked my day job to the curb. I was sitting up almost every night until midnight, then getting up again at 6am for work, and my output was still abysmal.
I can tell you, I never felt better than when I walked out of that office for the last time! Of course, the euphoria wore off a little when I realised that I am now solely responsible for my pay-check!