Sadly Aunty Fox won’t be attending Harrogate this year, however Fox Spirit will be well represented at the Football Grudge Match between North and South because House Fox demands trial by combat!
Never has their been a battle so epic as when crime writers throw down on the pitch near the Old Swan in the genteel and pretty gritty and dark surroundings of Mordor Harrogate. With more on the line here than at Helm’s Deep these two teams of pasty & sun deprived fearsome and heroic stalwarts of crime culture will meet in a silly game devastating battle.
Anyway, The North will be wearing Fox Spirit colours on their shirts because the north remembers or it’s going to rain or something. Skulk author Vincent Holland-Keen will be representing the North in this bloody and merciless battle, so there is Fox pride on the line and no pressure Vincent, but the losers will be sacrificed to the god of Fire while the winners will be witnessed entering the halls of Valhalla, all shiny and chrome.
The teams provisionally look like this:
FOR THE NORTH – WEIGHING IN AT THREE TONS
Luca Veste
Col Bury
Nick Quantrill
Howard Linskey
Vince Holland-Keen
Craig Robertson
Tom Wood
FOR THE SOUTH – NOT WEIGHING THEMSELVES AS THEY’RE SOUTHERN SOFTIES
First of all this Saturday is Edge Lit 4 at Quad in Derby. The skulk will be out in force and Aunty Fox will be on panels about Grim Dark at 10:30am and Short Stories at 5:15pm. We are launching ‘A Pack of Lies’ in a Fox Boo collaboration at 12:20 with readings, cookies and wine.
Jo Jo the Dog Faced boy and the bearded lady larking about at Edge Lit 2
Next up a really good article on Editors, who they are, what they do, why they matter from the amazing Julie Crisp.
Finally Fantasy Faction has a facebook page now for talking all things fantasy, tied to the soon to launch podcast. They want to know what authors you’d like to hear from and well, it would be rude for me to message them to say ‘The Skulk’, but you should all feel free Foxy Folk.
For the longest time I’ve struggled to finish books, to read something unrelated to Fox Spirit for my own pleasure. I am starting to reclaim that pleasure. Since I started out reviewing, I thought I might share my thoughts on those books I manage to complete here, with you.
I picked up The Night Circus after a number of friends recommended it to me. They were right!
The Night Circus is beautiful, complex and enchanting. A story of multiple layers, based around a magical contest whose contestant are committed without their consent and not told the rules. The game must be played and they are tied to it until it is complete. Everyone who works for the Circus or falls for its enchantments is also, more subtlety but just as irrevocably bound to it.
The combatants actually show a frustrating lack of curiosity about the game itself, while as a reader I was initially impatient to understand it better. It isn’t long though before the book casts its spell in full and I was lulled into the nightly life of the circus, less concerned with how or when it will end but rather wandering endlessly down the ouroboros like paths, gawping and gasping as each new marvel is revealed, but never quite shaking the unease fully, knowing that something is not quite ok here.
Two magical prodigies battle, using the Circus as their stage and while Marcus and Celia work and spar their respective mentors manipulate and protect the secrets of their ego driven with little regard for who is harmed or at least forever altered by the process.
The writing is beautiful, the story gently compelling, the characters never fully revealed in their complexity, everything is done so beautifully. The Night Circus is a masterclass for aspiring writers in how to create an atmosphere with every aspect of the book that reflects the tale you are telling.
I fell fully under the illusions of this book, absorbing it, watching it unfold slowly like the living statues that adorn its paths. Holding my breath as the illusions unfold ever more intricate and dangerous. What will become of Marcus and Celia as the game inevitably concludes and can the circus survive? Why is Poppet no longer able to read the stars and what is the role of young Bailey in all of this. With workings more delicate than the complications of the Circus’ amazing clock this is a book that draws you in and binds you to it gently, from which you cannot simply walk away before the game is done.
At the beginning, there are only words. They don’t necessarily relate. Like a pile of excitable puppies, they fall all over each other, tumbling out and racing around with too much energy, not enough focus.
Then, as the words progress, they start to fall into patterns. Fragments cohere and make sense. They start to move together, find their rhythm, and the words become sentences. There is no story yet, but there is motion. A pulse begins and the first signs of life flicker between the letters.
And then, at some point, the words and sentences begin to breath on their own. This moment of quickening isn’t a sudden revelation or a lightning strike, but more of a gentle recognition by the author that this are more than a mere clutch of words; ideas lurk below the surface. There is meaning. There is direction.
The sentences become rivers with strong currents, pulling the writer towards a conclusion. It may be a horrible ending, a boring ending, a sudden ending, an ‘it was all a dream’ ending, but it’s still an ending and that’s okay. With patience, stubbornness and perseverance, that first babble of random gibberish has travelled along a line to coalesce into a hero’s journey. The author might not be able to point to the exact moment that chaos became order, but it doesn’t matter. The first draft is complete.
Well that’s it then, our submission deadlines for Winter Tales and You Left Your Biscuit Behind are behind us, and for Fantastic Treats well behind us.
Our various editors now have the lengthy and tough task of reading through all those submissions and making our decisions. Please be patient. The aim is to complete the process for all three titles by October and we will let you know if there is any change to that.
We will be posting updated lists of Fantastic Treats and Biscuit submissions this weekend on the submissions page, if you believe you have been missed off please contact submissions at foxspirit dot co dot uk
If you did not receive an acknowledgement for your submission to Winter Tales, please check your spam box and if it’s not there please contact Margret on narjegerredaktor at gmail dot com.
We will not be responding to individual requests for updates during June, July and August as we prefer to spend the time getting the submissions read so you can all have an official response as soon as possible.
For those of you waiting on novel submissions we will be getting back to you in July.
On Eve’s War, I will be in touch with everyone involved very soon, our apologies for the quiet.
We know it hurts, you’ve put love and time into this manuscript and now people are going to come along and start picking fault, before it even gets to the reading public! We feel your pain and we recommend a tub of ice cream, a weepy movie and that you suck it up cupcake, you need to put your book through this process before it goes into the cruel cruel world!
Ok let’s start by clearing this up. Beta readers, proof readers and editors are not the same things. Which is not to say the same people can’t be all of those at various points, but when you ask someone to review your manuscript you need to know what you are asking for and who you are asking.
‘No, go ahead and critique my mss. I’m always ok … after the initial reaction.’
Beta readers. These are often friends, hopefully ones not afraid to criticise you, or other writers doing a beta swap. The job of a beta reader is to come back with ‘so yeah were you going for a mash up of Noddy and Austen? Coz that’s what this feels like. Also Brad is a massive douche bag oooh and this bit makes no sense, did I miss it or is it a gaping plot hole?’ That’s all really. They are there for the every day reader, looking for things that throw them out of the story, or mess it up totally, the plot holes the inconsistent characters, the overall tone. They are not there to edit your writing, correct your grammar (if they have a good eye and pick up tense slips and typos bonus). They are there to feed back to you what your baby looks like to the rest of the world.
Editors are there to make you look better. A good editor will not only pick up on mistakes in spelling and grammar, plot holes and inconsistencies but they will guide you. You can expect notes telling you that your whole first chapter is exposition, you don’t need it, bin the lot. An editor will tell you that you’ve used the same phrase 638 times in 400 pages and that’s at least 600 times too many, you’ll get notes to move this paragraph and cut that one, rewrite a section entirely, drop Brad not only is he a douche but he serves no actual purpose, cut him out entirely. A good editor will tell you that the book will be even better if it’s 100 pages shorter and that if you are setting it in medieval England you can’t have people saying ‘whassup brominator’. A good editor won’t rewrite you, put things into their words or make any changes for you, but they will steer and discuss and help you make the book tighter and better before it goes into the world. Beta readers are the mirror held up to your baby, Editors will show you how to photoshop it before you submit it for the local cutest baby contest.
Proof readers on the other hand will just give your baby a thorough scrub and iron its best onesie. The job of a proofer is simple, but requires a sharp eye and patience. They find mistakes. Spelling mistakes, typos, they tell you when your two should be too or your their belongs there. Proofers are the last line of defence against the fact that spellcheck doesn’t know you meant knackered not naked (seriously my brother wrote he was always nakerd and I was worried till someone pointed out the ‘r’)or that toad is a perfectly acceptable word, although toad works in the highway seem unlikely (I sent a lot of documents out with toad works in my time).
Be clear when you send your MS off. You can expect to pay a decent rate for a good line edit, likewise a decent proofer, it’s normal enough for beta reading to be trading favours or begged from friends. That does mean though that if they don’t work to your timetable or get back to you at all, or they take it upon themselves to rename your characters, I’m afraid that is what comes of trading favours sometimes. Shrug it off and use someone else next time. If you are paying then you can expect the service you are paying for so be clear on what you want, find out the rates and see if this is someone you feel good about working with, if it’s up to you who edits your book (which it won’t be if you are with a publisher) then it’s a relationship, work out if this is someone you can work well with.
If you are issued with an editor, you may get lucky, you may not, but however frustrating you find them, be respectful, it’s a small industry. If it really isn’t workable talk to whoever is handling your book and see if they can switch you out to someone else, but be a grown up about it, you may hate the process but you need editing, you need proofing and it’s smart to get a beta if you can.
As an aside on beta readers. Don’t have too many, it’s tempting to get everyone you know who reads to go over the book but you’ll get so many opinions it can be overload. Ideally find two or three people who like the sort of fiction you are trying to write to read it and see if it hits the target audience.
So to summarise, you need beta readers when you finish your MS if you can get them. Then for heaven’s sake get it edited and proofed before you send it anywhere, to self pub or to query and agent. Give your baby its best chance. Give it a detached look over, clean it up, then wipe the snot off before you send it into the world. (Wow I’ve really squeezed everything I can from that analogy).
And check out #tentweetsabouteditors for some neat notes by @joannechocolat on the subject.
Weird Noir was one of our early titles, edited by K.A. Laity and it was so much fun we managed to persuade her back to do two more, Noir Carnival and Drag Noir. The idea was simply to throw another genre or trope that interested us in the mix with noir stylings and it resulted in some incredible stories and really superb anthologies.
‘On the gritty backstreets of a crumbling city, tough dames and dangerous mentrade barbs, witticisms and a few gunshots. But there’s a new twist where
urban decay meets the eldritch borders of another world: WEIRD NOIR.
Featuring thugs who sprout claws and fangs, gangsters with tentacles and the occasional succubus siren. The ambience is pure noir but the characters aren’t just your average molls and mugs—the vamps might just be vamps. It’s Patricia Highsmith meets Shirley Jackson or Dashiell Hammett filtered through H. P. Lovecraft. Mad, bad and truly dangerous to know, but irresistible all the same.’
Dark’s Carnival has already left town, but it’s left a fetid seed behind. There’s a transgressive magic that spooks the carnies and unsettles the freaks. Beyond the barkers and the punters, behind the lights and tents where the macabre and the lost find refuge, there’s a deformity that has nothing to do with skin and bones. Where tragic players strut on a creaking stage, everybody’s going through changes. Jongleurs and musicians huddle in the back. It seems as if every one’s running, but is it toward something—or away?
The carnies bring you stories, a heady mix of shadows and candy floss, dreams gone sour and nights that go on too long. Let them lure you into the tent.
Carnival: whether you picture it as a traveling fair in the back roads of America or the hedonistic nights of the pre-Lenten festival where masks hide faces while the skin glories in its revelation, it’s about spectacle, artificiality and the things we hide behind the greasepaint or the tent flap. Let these writers lead you on a journey into that heart of blackened darkness and show you what’s behind the glitz.
Underneath, we’re all freaks after all…
We all went a little crazy at the Noir Carnival launch at Edge.Lit 2013
Jo Jo the Dog Faced boy and the bearded lady
and finally we closed off by taking a look at gender and sexuality in Drag Noir. K.A. Laity swears she won’t do any more, but we’ve heard that before.
Cover by S. L. Johnson
DRAG NOIR: this is where glamour meets grit, where everyone’s wearing a disguise (whether they know it or not) and knowing the players takes a lot more than simply reading the score cards. Maybe everyone’s got something to hide, but they’ve got something to reveal, too. Scratch the surface and explore what secrets lie beneath — it’s bound to cost someone…a lot.
The second Elkie Bernstein novel is coming out very shortly and will have a launch in its honour at Edge.Lit in July.
In the mean time here is the cover for A Pack of Lies by Jo Thomas
A Pack of Lies is the second in the series and while it isn’t a requirement to read the first book to follow the story, we would still suggest you do, because it’s superb and they make a gorgeous pair. The artwork is by the fabulous Sarah Anne Langton.
The second in Kim’s series of three Monday Methods posts.
Monday Methods – Time
Once upon a time, when I first started to tell stories, I would write whenever the muse visited me. At first, we were madly in love, my muse and me, and we would spend hours in each other’s company. I looked forward to her visits, I anticipated her bolts of inspiration, and I couldn’t wait to see what adventures we’d have together. I wrote every day, for hours and hours, because she was wonderful.
Then, we started to grow bored with each other. I mean, my muse was still great and fun to hang out with and everything, but there were other things needing my attention, too. I was working full time. There were some really great movies coming out. I had television to watch and dishes to do. I told her that, while I still thought she was lovely, maybe we should just be friends.
She visited less and less. Why would she bother to come around? I hadn’t been there for her, so why would she be there for me?
I started to miss her. I wondered how she was, what she was doing. I wondered if maybe she’d found someone new who loved her more, and that stung. I started to pine for her, looking for her in alleyways and libraries, but she was no where to be found.
Then, early one morning, I decided I was sick of waiting around for her to come back. The sun was starting to rise, and I needed to write something. So I did.
I guess that piqued her interest. I was writing without her, and she was curious to see what I could do on my own; she popped by to say hi, real friendly-like, and we hung out for an hour. It was fun, but cautious. Could we repair the damage I’d done? Was this relationship worth it?
The next morning, very early, I started writing again. The words that came out were stilted and ugly, but they were words – they still communicated my ideas, even if they were without grace or beauty. My muse watched, interested, and gave me a few pointers to make it a little better.
On the third morning, once more very early, my muse sat at my side in the coffee shop and we wrote together, and it was as beautiful and pure as the first time we’d met. I wrote until my wrists ached and my fingers cramped. My heart sang. She was so lovely, gracious and generous. She was funny and crass and full of surprises. I thought that yes, this might work, and I could see in her smile that she was hoping the same.
I don’t wait for her anymore. That’s unfair, to put all the responsibility on my muse. I wake early and I write in the morning, and I am happy when she chooses to join me, but I don’t begrudge her if she doesn’t come, either. Maybe she likes to sleep in. I’d never again take her for granted, or pressure her to be more than she is. My muse provides the inspiration, but the work of writing is my responsibility, and I always make sure to show up to the job on time. She knows where to find me; I’m happy when she does.
Joan was the first author to sign a novel with Fox Spirit. One of her novels with us also has the distinction of being our first crime release. Requiem in E Sharp.
‘A troubled detective
A tormented serial murderer
Sundays in Pretoria are dangerous for selected women.
A murderer plagued by his childhood, has found a distinctive modus operandi to salve his pathological need to escape the domination of the person who was supposed to cherish him.
As The Bathroom Strangler’s frenzy escalates and the body count mounts, Nico van Staaden, the lead detective on the case, finds himself confronting his own demons as he struggles to solve the murders of the seemingly unconnected victims. The lack of evidence in the sequence of deaths and pressure from his superiors are challenges he must overcome.
The resolution is bloody, savage and merciless.’
You can find the book on Amazon here ‘Bravo. I picked this book up and couldn’t put it down. Dark and grisly at times, the character development pulls you into the lives of these hopelessly screwed up people and doesn’t let you go. I’d never dreamt of having a peek into the backstory of a serial killer as intimately as I got in this book. Equally disturbed and enthralled, I am wondering how I am already done reading and yet in want of more?!’ – Amazon reviewer
The opening paragraphs
Sunday, 23 June
His hands shook. He wanted them to stop; he wanted everything to stop.
All he could hear was her banging on the piano. It reverberated along the passage, through the tiled floor of his childhood bathroom and into his brain. The feel of the cold, smooth surface of the bath beneath his small curled-up body was soothing and calmed him. It was safe as long as she banged on the piano. The moment the music stopped the real nightmare would begin. Urine ran down the insides of his legs causing his jeans to cling to them. The music stopped. She would be coming soon.
He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the memory.
The car boot slammed shut and brought him back to the present. The street lights above
his head flashed on and illuminated the quiet street. A slight though cool breeze played with
crisp brown leaves on the ground around his feet; a dog barked down the street, disturbing
the quiet suburb. The owner of the dog yelled at it to shut up. Why did people keep dogs to
protect them, then stop them from doing their job? It was something he would never
understand.
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