Author of tartan noir, urban fantasy, adventure and Lovecraftian horror
Well we did it. With 13 hours to go, we hit the target of £1500. A big thankyou to all my backers, a wee smile to myself and then back to the grindstone tomorrow to get all the rewards, and indeed the book, ready. There’s a really generous bunch of people backing me up in my writing which is so encouraging. Here’s hoping they enjoy the book!
G R Jordan author, poet, and top Dad apparently!
Just a quick note to let everyone know my crowdfund for my first novel is off and running at Kickstarter. Check it out at the following link: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/grjordan/crescendo-do-you-embrace-the-dark-or-run-from-it
I’ll be posting about it on my blog but get ahead by having a quick look. It’s my first kickstarter soo finding it well exciting!
G R Jordan author, poet, and top Dad apparently!
My Kickstarter for Crescendo! is just about there. I am just getting the final checks done and should be launching around the weekend for 3 weeks. Everythings just getting closer!
G R Jordan author, poet, and top Dad apparently!
One of the funnier things I find in my writing is the lengths I will go to to find a suitable location for my books. By that I mean each scene within my books. Every place mentioned usually has within it the building blocks of several real places if indeed it is not a real place itself. Because of this I am always on the lookout for different backdrops, whether it be from books, online searches, travel programs or anything else. My mind is constantly “location hunting”.
In my new book, “Crescendo!”, my intrepid duo Austerley and Kirkgordon, race around the world and I thought it would be interesting to see where the locations in the book come from in reality. The first location is Arkham, and more specifically the asylum there.
Due to the book’s tie-ins with Lovecraft mythology, Arkham was an obvious start point, the central town in the whole area of Lovecraft’s nightmares. I consulted fictional books and maps, checking the rivers and bridges and location of the asylum. But the building itself, or rather the scene, reminded me of a scene in “Porridge”, the classic British sitcom where Fletcher is let loose for a time. The sheer drabness and loneliness of a walk out of captivity with fanfares. The start of the Blues Brothers film has the same feel.
A trip to Russia then ensues and here was a major problem. At the current point in my writing career, ad hoc visits to far off countries are still beyond the budget. So thank goodness for the internet and those wonderful map programs where you can even place yourself in streets. I walked Russia’s alleyways, virtually, trying to see how my characters would perceive this place. Unfortunately the net doesn’t provide the smells and sounds and I had to think these into being (but I am meant to be a writer!). Pictures of a rather famous Russian café helped me in a little restaurant scene that occurs, giving me the feel of a past grandeur and a perfect backdrop to introduce Calandra, my Russian vamp.
It is funny how I have never been to any of these “foreign” places but felt able to find myself in their surroundings simply by a little application. I’m not here today to ponder on the finer pints of place description but rather as an encouragement to not limit yourself to places that you know when writing. With a little research, plenty of pictures, writings and a wee bit of imagination, you can make anywhere come alive. But yes, I would like the bigger budget, the private jet (now I am dreaming) to go and visit these places. But remember, places in the past or future, or those invisible except in the mythos of a person, cannot be reached. Well, except on the train of the mind and is that not our standard mode of transport as a writer anyway?
G R Jordan author, poet, and top Dad apparently!
On the hunt for a mysterious manuscript of music Austerley and Kirkgordon find themselves in Russia and delving into its stranger secrets. A street that’s there and yet isn’t, a seriously ice cold vamp and former lover, the infamous FSB and a former painter of hellish creatures. So how would they say they found their trip to Russia? Well I think Austerley would quote Winston Churchill.
In the meantime you can grab the prelude to Crescendo! entitled “Footsteps” at Smashwords or email me (carpetlessleprechaun@hotmail.com) to join my mailing list and receive a free copy. All email addresses will only be used to deliver exciting news about Carpetless publications and will not be passed onto any other party. Please indicate whether you prefer a mobi, epub or pdf copy of “Footsteps”.
G R Jordan author, poet, and top Dad apparently!
In my new novel Crescendo! (due for release next month) my dynamic duo of Austerley and Kirkgordon find themselves in Russia and I was wondering how to describe what they found there. The Old Bear produces some dark secrets and a bizarre street but I thought this quote hit the right note.
In the meantime you can grab the prelude to Crescendo! entitled “Footsteps” at Smashwords or email me (carpetlessleprechaun@hotmail.com) to join my mailing list and receive a free copy. All email addresses will only be used to deliver exciting news about Carpetless publications and will not be passed onto any other party. Please indicate whether you prefer a mobi, epub or pdf copy of “Footsteps”.
G R Jordan author, poet, and top Dad apparently!
Next month I will be releasing the first novel in my Austerley and Kirkgordon adventure series about a pair of investigators into the paranormal. In order for readers to get a feel for my characters I will be releasing a short story prelude before launch day and as I am especially good to my blog readers, I am going to serialise it here. So take a trip into the depths of a lost graveyard in search of Eldar things with Messers Austerley & Kirkgordon and find out how this diverse pair became entangled in horrors from the past.
Epilogue
“And that is about that Officer. I went to drive the car but I didn’t have any keys, lost down below I think. Hot wiring it came to mind but to be truthful, it’s not a skill I have in abundance. Austerley was in a bad way, as was I, both losing blood and I could feel my overall capacity reducing, both mentally and physically. Listening intently, I located the nearest road and dragged the lunatic and myself over to it. It was less than a kilometre I reckon as I took the direct route.
By the time we were found, I think I was delirious and Austerley, well he had lost his mind in the depths. Ranting is a speciality of his, especially in other languages. And I do mean other! So that’s it, Officer. And to be honest I no longer care what anyone thinks or what happens because I damn well capped it and it ain’t coming out that hole. So do the decent thing and send me home and that space cadet to the asylum he deserves.”
The officer crunched up his plastic cup and picked up his notebook before leaving the room. Outside he took a right into the small viewing room and looked at the smartly dressed man in grey overcoat, polished black shoes and bowler hat.
“Crazy story but he tells it like he believes it,” said the officer.
“Yes, he most certainly does,” agreed the bowler hatted man. “Well, I do thank you for letting me watch. On behalf of Her Majesty’s government, I am glad that we have come to an agreement on how to proceed. Mr Kirkgordon needs some rest and recuperation and letting him seek it at home is a most excellent accommodation. As for Mr Austerley, the asylum at Arkham should suffice. A man like that certainly needs to be observed for all our good.”
“Nice working with you,” complimented the police officer shaking the man’s hand. “Take good care mister ….., mister …..what did you say your name was again?”
“Farthington, Mr Farthington at your service.”
Who is the strange Mr Farthington? Will Austerley recover from this nightmare? Does Kirkgordon return to a happy family and a snaity of mind? Find out in Crescendo!, releasing mid-October.
G R Jordan author, poet, and top Dad apparently!
Next month I will be releasing the first novel in my Austerley and Kirkgordon adventure series about a pair of investigators into the paranormal. In order for readers to get a feel for my characters I will be releasing a short story prelude before launch day and as I am especially good to my blog readers, I am going to serialise it here. So take a trip into the depths of a lost graveyard in search of Eldar things with Messers Austerley & Kirkgordon and find out how this diverse pair became entangled in horrors from the past.
Something’s Coming up the Stairs
I think my strength was heightened by the terror. It’s the only way I can imagine that we covered the ground at such pace. As we were heading away from the beacons, the darkness began to engulf again and I was running in total darkness. Behind me I heard the gibbering of Austerley between his deep breaths. But farther back there were other sounds. Unholy voices, shrieks, howls, laughs if I was to guess at them. And a thumping. Like hundreds of feet pelting after us. There was no rhythm to it, nothing to which my imagination could grab and produce a picture in my mind. Maybe I should have been thankful but, in honesty, it chilled me more than anything else I have ever fled from.
Austerley knew what it was because from the moment it started he was easier to pull along, in fact, I was only steering him. He said so many words at the time, many of them in languages I didn’t know but he did say that word again. Said it a lot. Shuggoth. So maybe it was that. It’s easier to put a name to it, as it makes me less fearful but in that dark I knew no names. Just the sense of approaching terror, a devilish chaser, a Satan on our backs. And we ran, beaten bodies, broken ankles and lacerations a-plenty hindering us for sure, but Officer we ran!
I knew it was a risk. Somewhere in the back of my mind, something said, Kirkgordon, my son, don’t forget the stairs. But the terror was such that I was just running and I ran smack into the very stairs that were meant to carry us to safety. It was my shoulder that hit the stonework and I tumbled to the floor. Austerley tripped over my legs and I think he landed on the bottom steps for I heard him trying to climb.
The pounding noise of supposed feet got closer, pumping even more adrenalin into my system. Desperately I fumbled around to locate the stairs, trying to use Austerley’s voice as a guide. My heart almost stopped for it took me a good fifteen seconds to locate them. I eagerly took to my flight and covered some four steps before I tumbled over Austerley who must have fallen trying to negotiate the stairs in the darkness.
And then it hit. I felt the stairs shudder and something wet splatted across my legs. It was then that I was cut across my thigh by something sharp which drove me onward. Calling to Austerley to follow I made a start. But I heard nothing human follow me. I called him by name again. No reply. But I heard something trying to squeeze itself into a narrow space. There was a grating of skin on stone, and a noise that indicated pain in a forced effort. Not that the noise had anything human about it.
Bending back down the steps, my hands found Austerley. He wasn’t moving and I had no idea of he was alive or dead. There was no time to check, with our pursuer so close, so I grabbed him by the collar and prepared to drag him. That was when I felt the breath of whatever had pummelled into the stairs. Like acidic snotty mist, its breath blew across my face and I imagine that was inches from me, squeezing its way up the stairs.
I didn’t think. No yells or cries of terror were uttered. In my core I was numb, frozen in feeling. Thank the Lord that my trained reactions took over and my hands seized Austerley’s collar and I dragged him with all my might. I didn’t stop, just pulling and pulling, energy sapping from me but terror driving me on. Never before have I praised the dawn such as I did then.
Dropping Austerley beside the entrance to the grave, I limped my way over to the car and popped the boot, sorry trunk, although boot is proper English, you know. Yeah, I popped the boot and grabbed all the weaponry I had left. It wasn’t an enormous amount; a couple of grenades, some magazines, flash-bangs and a few explosives. Carrying them back to the entrance I began tossing them in.
Austerley opened his eyes beside me and he began to get agitated. He asked what the hell I was doing. Ending it, I told him, bloody ending it. Do you know what the stupid arse then says? Just put the lid on. The lid, I says to him, the lid. There’s a thing coming up the stairs that tops the tentacled horrors that nearly sliced us apart and you just want me to put a lid on it. Just why, I asked him, just flipping why? Now wait for this, Officer, he tells me he wants to go back down, another time to study these things. Can you imagine what I was thinking? The man wants locking up. So I said to him, Indiana Jones, that’s what you are, a sick Indy-clone. But it’s not flaming antiques you’re hunting. It’s the damned, the unholy, Satan’s own.
I told him, that as far as I was concerned, stuff like this should not be messed with. It was the stuff the good book told you to steer clear of, the evil you shouldn’t embrace. Any passing acquaintance with a church would have shown him that. And I said to him, Indy, people like you need protecting from yourself before you dump us all in your own filthy nightmares.
A “Churchy” telling me what to do. That’s what his response was and he tried to grab some of the gear and throw it clear. But I’d had enough. Also who knew how long we could have before that thing squeezed up the stairs. So I dropped him with my nerve grip, shut the stupid fool up. I tossed the rest of the weaponry into the hole, leaving myself one explosive to throw in and ignite the inferno. After toying briefly with tossing Austerley in as well, I dragged him clear and blew the explosives. When the dust had settled, the stairs had collapsed and there was no way down anymore. I drew the stone back across. Despite being exhausted and losing blood, I thought the stone important to cover any traces. This stuff doesn’t want looked into, Officer. Promise me that, if nothing else, promise me that.
Can you keep a lid on it until we see the fallout in two days time? If not, read the epilogue on Wattpad now.
G R Jordan author, poet, and top Dad apparently!