Hi there. A huge thanks to all 500 plus of you who downloaded Volume One of the Future Movers anthology. I hope you enjoy my novellas and want to move on to Volume Two. Meanwhile I've arranged a brand new cover for A Talent for Loving, and as this is the prequel to the whole series - and where The Future Movers all began, I thought it desired a new look.
I'll be uploading it to Amazon within the next week so it will be available as a single - a bit like a tasty starter course before the main meal.
A tip to those of you who enter competitions: Last week I sent off an entry and three days later decided to print it out. Disaster: a very wide right-hand margin and when I printed out the first page of the RTF file I just had a row of overprinted letters at the begininng of each line. I checked the print preview on both documents and it looked perfect each time. I ran off the first page of other documents in the PC, all good. I tried copying and pasting the prose into a new file and the error went with it!
I eventually retyped it, luckily only 3000 words, in a new file and have resubmitted it, with a covering note. There is no way the previous submission could be read as I sent the file as an RTF, thinking I was doing the right thing.
MORAL: Always print out the first page of anything you send off to a competition, just to be sure the file is not corrupted.
Here is the new cover, coming soon on Amazon.
Thanks to Annie Seaton for compiling this. Love it.
Frowning in his displeasure, Herensuge stared at the youth who sat at
the edge of the cave. “I’m not in the mood for music, boy,” he snapped. “Olaf,
he knew what he was doing. I wouldn’t be feeling like this if Olaf were still
“Look, it’s no good going on about it. My uncle Olaf’s been gone these
three years. I’m sick of you talking about it. Olaf left, it was his time to do
so, and he’d probably had enough of you. Listen to the music. It’s meant to
soothe and calm you down.” Leif pressed the button on his black machine, and
the music with its rhythmic beat pounded in the cave.
Herensuge flopped down so hard the sandy floor juddered. He curled his
upper lip above his longest tooth and sucked in a deep breath. Dissatisfaction
poured through every one of his ruffled scales. “I wish you could read faster,
“Do you know how hard it is reading Old Norse? There are no helpful
little translations in here. I don’t know which bit of the manuscript deals
with this particular problem.” The lad sat cross-legged some way off, the huge
leather-bound book across his knees, well out of reach of the splashes of the
water cascading down over the circular hole in the limestone roof of the cave.
“I’m sorry, Heren,” Leif said. “I’m doing my best. I swear to you. I don’t want
you to get ill. Here, have a cloudberry.” He flipped one over.
Mollified more by the use of his close name than the small berry he
snapped up, Heren eyed the lad. “I apologize too. I know you’re working hard to
find the answer. If only I could recall the cure. But it’s all so long ago.
Centuries of dreaming, and the world is a far different place.”
Leif nodded. “I know. Now, you relax, listen to the music, and I’ll
keep reading. Try to stay calm. The last thing we need is a big burn-up.”
Resigned to the music and his continued suffering, Herensuge lounged.
He tapped a claw in time to the drums and watched his diamond and gold claw
ring send brilliant sparkles of light dancing on the cave walls. All very well,
but the tingling itch remained. The uncomfortable itching got worse every day
and forced him to roll and writhe against the thick rock pillars or lie with
his belly submerged in the cool of the turquoise water, and yet even the icy
chill of the pool didn’t soothe the heat. A fresh rumbling growl rose from his
Leif glanced up from the book. “Not again.”
“Sorry.” A cloud of smoke wafted from Heren’s open mouth, followed by a
flash of red fire that licked toward the youth. The lad yanked the book away
and grabbed the fire extinguisher he’d insisted on bringing into the cave for
the last month.
“Loki’s balls! Please, Heren, I
want to keep mine. Breathe the other way if you must flame.”
Check in again next week when I will post another excerpt.