THE JOWLER

I have some very exciting news this week. My novel has found a home! Those nice people at Corvus Press UK (http://corvuspress.blogspot.co.uk/) have asked to publish my steampunk, other worldly detective story that has more than a twist of time travel to it. I am to say the least elated.

I began writing The Jowler about three years ago. I had recently read an anthology of steampunk short stories and thought, rather arrogantly, I can do that. What attracted me to the whole steampunk genre was that it would allow me to use my engineering background. Yes, I know it’s hard to imagine but I began my working life as a spotty faced apprentice fitter/turner in those long ago days when Albion produced things. And I thought that this experience would give me a unique angle on steampunk.

Actually what it gave me was the two main characters and the lead in to the sequel. The Jowler is set in Frome, a town I used to live in; I spent much time ensuring that the layout of my Frome works on our world, and had long wanted to incorporate the carnival tradition of the south-west in to a work of fiction.

So there it is The Jowler will now see the light of day. More news to follow.

I thought this week I would end with the title poem from my first collection of poetry.

BURNING MUSIC

As kindling for our endeavour,

We broke up one hit wonder after another.

Blew on the music until it caught,

Wanting to burn everything ever heard.

It was difficult to fit the first symphony on,

But as Wagner caught we knew it would last.

We threw some Chopin on to the blaze,

One man joked It’s quicker to burn them than to listen to them.

I warm my hands on a Thelonius Monk solo,

Black flames angular to the fire,

We worked steadily through the night.

As the birds woke,

As we prodded the embers of the last Bach,

The world was silent.

We used to have a set of those magnetic words that you can make poems out of, on the front of the fridge and my daughter had sequenced the words cooking music. The poem was a result of me thinking about that sequence.

Here is the first poem I wrote for her:

blind divers kick

in the womb wet dark

no eye can catch

this streamlined arc

Have a good week.