Barb Taub, author of the quirky Tales from Null City, decided to add my name to her list for the WIP Blog Tour. As refusing any excuse to talk about the books is not in a writer’s nature, and as Barb is the only other writer I have come across to include the barghest amongst her characters, I can only accept graciously and say thank you Barb!

There are a number of things in progress on this desk at the moment, including a cheese and pickle sandwich, but other than that and the rituals for the upcoming workshop, the most important is Scions of Albion, the third book in the Doomsday series, written with Stuart France.

“Once in your life you will hear a story that you know to be untrue but will believe in your heart to be the most truthful story you have ever heard.”

Scions charts the continuing adventures of Don and Wen as they wander the highways and sacred sites of Albion in search of answers to age-old riddles. Except this time Wen appears to be up to something… something that requires a balaclava, a crow bar and assorted weaponry… And Don is already confused… which isn’t at all surprising given the appearance of a Black Shade in the ice-cream van.

***

““A black bird you say…” Wen and I have finally regained the relative safety of the Silver Bullet after our overlong sojourn on the tops of the High Moor. Our encounter at the ice cream van has finally been allowed to slowly percolate back into my consciousness.
“Well it was black and it appeared to be flying,” says Wen.
“Did you see a beak?” say I.
“I did not see a beak.”
“Did you see an eye?”
“I did not see an eye.”
“…A head…?”
“There was no head, either…””

***

I saw, buildings all around…
Everywhere… huge, grey blocks, piled one on top of the other, and lawns, neatly cut and shaped, square, and very green.
Two sapling trees had been planted in the middle of a small circle of freshly turned soil. They had been carefully positioned to grow straight and symmetrical.
The Guardians of Euclid…
Yet still they danced.
A slow, twisting, freedom dance across the years…

***

“Evolution!”
“Say what?”
“That’s the key to it,” says Wen.
“Oh,” say I, “I thought you were going to say something interesting.”
“Like what?”
“Like evolution; that dog don’t hunt.”
Wen smiles, “Shouldn’t that be dawg…?”
I think she might finally be grasping my cunningly cryptic film references which should make things a little easier and much more fun of course.

***

With a little luck this is an opportunity to see what worlds our fellow writers are wandering and the idea is a simple one:

Link back to the person who nominated you.

Write a little about and give the first few lines of your first three chapters from your WIP.

Nominate some other writers to do the same.

So, my nominees, should they choose to accept, are:

Nicholas C. Rossis, author of the bestselling Pearseus series.

Alienora Taylor, whose books include Riding at the Gates of Sixty and the hilarious Long Leggety Beasties.

Charles E. Yallowitz, creator of the Legends of Windemere.

And finally… Gary M. Vasey, who will, I hope say he is currently working on the sequel/prequel to The Last Observer.