Announcing My New Patreon

Hello readers,

I’m pleased to announce my new Patreon page! I’ve been thinking about starting a Patreon account for a while now; I’ve been busy researching how it works, setting my prices and rewards, and waiting for the Royal Mail to deliver the paperbacks. (COVID-19 is such a pain in the arse, don’t you know?)

“But what exactly is Patreon, Alex?” you ask. It’s a good question: I had no idea it existed until quite recently, and not many writers use it, at least based on my experience so far. (This may change.) In short, Patreon is a way of supporting me financially, in exchange for all sorts of cool perks—like getting to read Fallen Desire early, along with cool short stories and poems. Think of it as a long-term relationship with long-term benefits and obligations.

Become my Patron!

Poems 2020

Speaking of poems, I’m going to be writing a new series of poems this year, titled (you guessed it) Poems 2020. They are unique and available only to my Patreon supporters during the first year; in 2021 I will be making them freely available here on the Magical Realm.

I’ll be writing about characters from the Fallen series, and one poem, the Sceptre of Fire, will actually be about a new fantasy series I have planned for the future. (Yes, that’s a hint!)

Make the best of quarantine

Like many people in the world right now, I am stuck at home and only allowed outside to buy food and medicine. I figured I might as well do something useful. There’s nothing more fun than passing time indoors with a good book, right? Or talking about a good book, if not reading it.

Under the Stars

Hail readers!

It has been a long time since I’ve written here on the Magical Realm, for which I can only express my regret. Alas, life has a tendency to catch up on you. Moreover, I’ve had a number of things to keep me occupied and otherwise indisposed.

The first of these was university, especially my second (and last, thankfully) Spanish class, which was a mess of grammar. Then the summer holidays came; school finished, but I spent a long time on the road to Romania, fell sick to an abscess in the gums, and spent much time occupied with these foibles. Then there were tuition fees to be paid, not to mention a microeconomics paper to complete.

After all that, I followed my grandparents to the countryside, where, for a time, I had no Internet. Blogging was therefore out of the question, but I still managed to work on both Fallen Love and its sequel.

Speaking of the books, I will get onto that in a moment. Firstly: I wish to discuss my latest poem, entitled Under the Stars (for which this post is eponymous).

A New Poem

Under the Stars is slightly meta-poetic, in that it refers to a poet, but its main message concerns immortality—the immortality of being remembered, of being important to the universe in a way above and beyond the normally insignificant lives led by humans. (Hence the metaphorical allusion to the stars.)

The poem is also a warning, of sorts: those who never seek to explore the world, to understand some of its mysteries, are no better than lesser animals—the poem compares them to chickens.

I should make a few things clear about this poem is not, however. The poem does not deal with any kind of physical immortality (debatable based on the definition of physical immortality and the laws of entropy). Nor does it comment on non-physical immortality (another can of worms entirely).

With that said, read on!

Under the stars Where the Heavens shine bright
In the dark shadow of the blue night
A poet dreams
The things unknown to man.

The moon dares not show herself
For her time is not yet;
The night belongs to the darkness
To the pale blue, the faint yellow
The unseen magenta hues.

It is said
That to admire those precious points of light
For too long
Leaves mortals mad.
The vast unknown is too great to ponder.

But the poet, nay;
He is no mere mortal, is he not?
For what is immortality
But remembered epics
That live forevermore in the minds of men?

On this dark night
In this bright sky
When others sleep soundly in their beds
(Fools, so little they know!)
The poet is allowed to wonder.

What lies in yonder universe?
A man feels small
Among such wise giants.
For the stars look on,
And know humanity too very well.

Does humanity deserve
Such greatness?
The poet thinks, and wonders;
It does not surprise him, in truth.
Man no more deserves it than the chickens.

Poets, philosophers, and kings;
Men of science and learning;
Curiosity lives in them
Bright as the stars
Darker than space.

Yet they are so few:
Diamonds among a mass
Of dull coal, like stars in the great expanse
Of emptiness.
For many are incurious, and stupid.

Mortality is a curse;
Death and suffering are its arbiters
As surely the knife is to the chickens.
Blood flows, men die, turn to dust.
Nought comes of it.

The poet is right, aye.
Those who gaze at the stars
May one day hope to join them;
Those who think of meat and the earth
Are doomed to join the objects of their desire.

Such is the way of the world
Is it not?
The moon waxes and wanes
Day gives way to night, and night to dawn.
Only the stars can taste eternity.

The Struggle for Fallen Love

I come, at last, to my long and difficult journey in getting the book published. Primarily, the problem has been a lack of time and energy on my part; the simple fact of the publishing industry at present (and for the last ten years or so) is that it requires immense perseverance. It is, in some ways, a numbers game: the probability of getting represented by one agent is very low, so it requires a lot of queries—this is an inevitable outcome dictated by statistics. I’m willing to bet that the number of queried agents required to obtain representation is approximately normally distributed around a mean, but left skewed (i.e. all authors need to query 10+ agents, but some end up querying 100).

Another problem is of course simple faith—in the book, in myself as a writer. The publishing process is by its nature demoralising. So what am I to do? Soldier on, carry my cross? It would seem so.

I shall leave you now, dear readers, for I am to return to Amsterdam and still have much to do. Rest assured, however, that I will return to blogging. I aim to write another article on photography and my experiences with my first DSLR. Until then...

A Wee Poem

Hail readers!

Today I have chosen to share with you a new poem—one which I wrote while away in the Romanian countryside, as I have already mentioned previously. It is entitled ‘the Castle’, and you can read it below.

The Castle

Now, as for what it represents, that ought not be difficult to deduce. The first few stanzas are ‘scenic,’ as one might say; they set the scene with imagery, and make an excellent stepping stone into the main theme of the poem:

There comes a time
A very special, once upon a time
When a castle need be built.
To guard against invaders; to fight dragons
And be home to the ghosts of battle.

The second part of the poem goes onto none other Linaera and Neshvetal themselves. These two, for those of you who don’t know, are the main characters from the Necromancer, my first novel. In that sense, the poem has a certain amount of nostalgia (though ‘be home to the ghosts of battle’ should give that away!)

The girl is tall, and pale
Her eyes bright, blue
Alive with newborn power.
The ghost is beside her:
Formed of shadows and memories.

So different
The living and the dead;
The evil and the righteous.
But so alike, too—
Father and daughter, wielders of magic.

The final part of the poem talks of ‘a time of new enemies’; in that sense, one would be correct in thinking that the poem alludes to a new sequel for the book. That, of course, is still a good long way in the future: I intend to complete Fallen Love, its sequel, and a whole other set of books before I do that. Nonetheless, it gives you a taste of things to be.

I will leave you with the poem’s ending, and a reference to destiny, as is traditional here on the Magical Realm.

The girl turns away;
The necromancer seems sad
Though hopeful too.
“Time to meet your destiny,”
He says, eyes atwinkle.

“Now,” says the girl
“Where have I heard that before?”

A Summer of Words

Good day, readers!

Today, Alex has finally taken the time to write a proper update—although Alex hopes you did enjoy the second guest post by Molly. Quite a number of things have happened since Alex last wrote; therefore, this post will be a longer one. We will have four topics as the subject matter: to begin with, Alex’s university life, followed by all elements of his writing—poems, essays, and of course, Fallen Love.

Without further ado...

A University Experience

The academic year is scheduled as follows: there are two 16-week periods, and two 6-week periods, with breaks in between, and a nearly two month long summer holiday. Alex has completed the first 16- and 6-week period; the second sixteen week period, which he is in now, is almost at an end. Thus, there are six more weeks until the summer holiday.

The next 6 weeks will have Alex study for a course known as “Global Identity”, which—according to former students—is quite a bore. Therefore, Alex has hopes to make significant headway in his writing.

University life has brought many challenges for me (yes, we’re not in third person anymore). Friendship, romance, loneliness—to name a few emotions. On top of that, there have been practical difficulties. Accommodation, bank accounts and bureaucracy were just some of them.

Academically, I have found university to my liking. I have obtained excellent grades so far. Although, of course, it has meant significant work: ten exams, ten substantial essays, and countless smaller assignments. What can I say? I need a proper break.

Two Lovestruck Poems

I have alluded to romantic feelings, and indeed, there has been a special someone whom I have fallen for. They will be known only as “The One Who Shall Not Be Named”.

The poems are called Eromenos (transliterated from the Greek, meaning “beloved”) and the Dove. You may read them below.

Eromenos

The Dove

Essays, and Money

I have won my first paid essay competition! The science publisher, Issues in Earth and Space Science, has accepted my essay for a €50 prize. The title of the work is “Fantasy and Science Fiction: A Curious Divergence”. I won’t release it just yet—but it will be published in short order.

I have not yet decided on what I want to use the money for, although I hope to make a modest donation to charity.

In addition, I have also submitted to another academic publisher—the ERIS Journal for Humanities, run by the VU university—which will release the results this summer. First prize is €350, so wish me luck!

Fallen Love: A Difficult Tale

In addition to all these efforts, there has, of course, been what is perhaps the most important: Fallen Love, my upcoming novel.

Its tale is a long and fraught one. Initially—nearly two years ago, in fact—I began writing the Ark, which was the story I first planned to tell. Alas, that did not work out as expected; I wrote on my experience here. Instead, following a moment of dark inspiration, I chose to write the tale I am now creating.

Efforts so far have not gotten me nearly as far as I would have wished. I wrote 48,000 words; after a fair amount of revision, I am now on 46,000. I expect Part One will come in at under 45,000. After that, I will began writing Part Two—for a grand total somewhere between 80K and 90K words.

Since I have been rather taciturn with regards to the story (I have only posted a blurb on the “Upcoming Books” page) perhaps it is time I let slip a few more details.

Fallen Love is a story set in Dublin, in the year 2620. It is a strange place: Ireland is run by an authoritarian regime known, simply, as the Party. Europe is united in the form of the European Superstate, against the Chinese menace. Dark things walk the Earth—mutants that prey on humans, driven by a passion known only to them.

Mark, a young man belonging to the Fallen—a Class of people with few rights—doesn’t understand why his father abandoned him, nor why he’s fallen for Conall, an arrogant Upperclassman with a love of beautiful things.

Neither of them suspect what lies in store for them. There are barriers that guard their world from the forces of the Dark One; but they grow thinner, and the menace looms larger. Mark will soon discover that his father had every reason to leave...

Finishing Thoughts

I am a busy man, as you can see. My work takes on many forms—be it academic essays, romantic poems, or evocative novels. My only command is that you stay and listen. There is more yet to come... though not this week. There is one more exam yet to go!

Hallo Allemaal!

Hallo allemaal! Ik ben deze maand Nederlands aan het studeren!

If you’re scratching your head, wondering whatever has possessed yours truly, rest assured that Alex has not fallen prey to a bout of logorrhea. Rather, he is learning Dutch this month; and he has decided (since he has been terribly busy and unable to write on the Magical Realm) to give you a rundown on his activities over January.

Firstly, I shall address my experience learning Dutch thus far; and secondly, I shall address the many other important aspects of my literary life, with particular regards to my progress with Fallen Love and my beta readers. But yes, before I go into that, allow me to explain a few pertinent elements of Dutch.

Nederlandse is Gezellig!

The full complexities of grammar, spelling and other such tedious details I shall not be overly concerned with here; I intend, rather, to speak about Dutch in a more general sense. What is the character of Dutch? What does it sound like, feel like? Languages, I believe, are more interesting in the broad sense—in the way they communicate meaning and in the cultural character that they reveal about their speakers—rather in the technical minutiae.

So: what is Dutch like? I think the word gezellig—which translate rather approximately as ‘cozy’—is a good example. A Dutch man or woman, when speaking positively, will often describe a place (or indeed numerous other entities) as being gezellig. In English, there is no real equivalent. We might say cozy, or comfortable, or moody, or characterful; but such words are encompassed by a single word in het Nederlands.

Gezellig can also be used to describe the Dutch character. The Nederlanders are a laid-back, conversant, and expressive people. In conversation, they can seem curiously joyful, with such expressions as ‘dat is moi!’ or ‘Lekker!’ (The former translates, again approximately, as ‘that is pretty’; while the latter means ‘it is great, nice, pleasant’).

I believe part of this impression also stems from the way the language sounds.

Dutch Phonology (and Orthography)

The Dutch language is melodious. In fact, I would say it is the most melodious language I’ve heard, surpassing English and even Italian. (And for the record, French, which isn’t at all as romantic as it’s cracked up to be.)

But you would never guess that from the orthography. No doubt some of you, when seeing the word gezellig, incorrectly tried to pronounce it as /gɛzɛlɪg/ (a bit like geezer) instead of /ɣəzɛlɪɣ/. The Dutch pronunciation of the g grapheme is very unfamiliar to modern English speakers. It is known in the technical parlance as a ‘voiced velar fricative’; basically, it’s like having a sore throat. If you gyrate your vocal cords together, you’ll get it.

You’d think this would make the Dutch language sound harsh, like German or Scandinavian languages. But you’d be wrong: when the voiced velar fricative is introduced in a language that has very pronounced vowels (e.g. as in alleen or allemaal) it sounds quirky rather than harsh.

But yes, Dutch does have a lot of elongated vowels. Duur and straat are examples; indeed in any case where there are two a’s or e’s, the vowel is elongated. But, even in words like deze (this) you still get pronounced vowels, being realised as /deːzə/.

Grammar

I admit I am still very much unfamiliar with the grammar, so I shall make only a minor observation regarding it. As with many languages, the word order can change depending on context: in the main clause (hoofdzin) the verb comes second (Dutch, like English, is an SVO language: we say ‘I love you’ or ‘Ik houd van jou’). But, in the subordinate clause (bijzin) the verb comes last: Ih heb hoofdpijn, dus ik wil een ibuprofen hebben.

In English, the meaning can be subtly changed by the word order as well—particularly when yours truly is writing poetry. For example:

Deep in mountains great and terrible \ O’er the frozen wastelands of the north \ There lies the dwarven hinterland.

What is the significance of saying ‘deep in mountains great and terrible’ instead of ‘deep in great and terrible mountains’? Perhaps nothing, you say. But notice that in the former I use asyndeton (there is no connecting word between the noun—mountain—and the two adjectives, great and terrible). This can give the prose a different character to ordinary conversation.

Het Diminutief

Another curious aspect of Dutch is the use of the diminutive, i.e. ‘little words’. These usually (albeit not exclusively) terminate in -je. Examples would include e.g. kopje or broodje.

It is difficult to describe what exactly a diminutive is for English speakers, but perhaps I can peruse an example from Scots English instead. You will sometimes here a Scotsman using the word wee, as in ‘a wee lad’. The word wee in Scots English acts as a diminutive.

Dutch is in fact not the only language where diminutives exist. In Romanian, a similar rule exists: you can say ‘un scaun’—a chair—or ‘un scăunel’ (a wee chair). In Romanian the use of the diminutive is complicated by the presence of gendered words, so ‘o masă’ (feminine word) has a diminutive form ‘o masuță’. Moreover, there are even some words that have irregular diminutives, so ‘un copil’ (a child; masculine word) has the diminutive ‘un copilaș’.

As you can see, Dutch isn’t the hardest language you can learn!

Writing

And now, finally, I shall address my writing progress.

I have written 22,000 words in Fallen Love so far, and will continue to write more. I have already received feedback from my two beta readers for the first 10K words; and I will receive more soon.

As for the Necromancer, I have finished reviewing the books allotted to me, and I have received the reviews I was owed. I shall seek more reviews for it, though with writing, reading, and learning Dutch, I have more than enough on my plate.

To Finish

The month of januari will be a busy one for me, as you can see, so my blogging will alas cover only the essentials. But, you can expect to see two interesting pieces published in the coming weeks. The first is another poem I have written (but not published); and the second is a piece I wrote for Scriptus, the university journal.

Very well; that is all for now. As the Dutch would say: Doei!

Mr Stargazer, the Writer Plagued

Hello readers!

It is now approaching the half-way point of October. At the start of this month, I spoke of two things: firstly there were my plans to republish the Necromancer; and secondly, there was the news that the Magical Realm would only see old posts being bumped up. Both things have so far held true.

I have bumped up two posts that I thought merited your attention: my review of the Lady Midnight, and my popular post entitled On Editing. I hope that you found them to your interest, if you did not read them; if you already read them, apologies, but I have been extremely busy.

You see, I have done a substantial amount of work on the new edition of the Necromancer. There is a new ending! And—a rewritten prologue. Various other changes have been made; and more remain to be made. I hope to make some changes to certain elements of the story; to remove certain chapters that shouldn’t have been included, and to rework others that are in need of rethinking. I hope to have completed the work by the end of this month—and to republish the Necromancer by Halloween.

That said, however, this is no easy task. One reason for this is my move—due to various causes I am moving to a single room. This has uprooted me greatly; and I have spent much time and effort carrying furniture, clothing, and other victuals of civilised life.

I also needed to buy many things. A fridge, for of course the housing association had not bothered to include such a necessity. Nor did they bother to include chairs, or tables. I even have to buy a light fitting for the bathroom. It will suffice to say that my opinion of the housing association is poor—I will avoid the temptation to break into profanity.

On top of that, there has been university work, and working with the Scriptus editors to finalise my pieces before the deadline.

I have also submitted two collections of my poetry to two journals; I hope to hear from them soon.

So, as you can see, I am all too busy. You will forgive me—I think—for saying that I will be bumping up more old posts over the course of this month. After all, I still have a wardrobe and a bed to make, plus more pieces of furniture to procure.

But look at the bright side—you will get to discover many interesting posts buried deep in the archives, and at the end of this month, you will have the opportunity to read a new version of the Necromancer.

Until then, may the stars be with you. (And dare I say—may they be with me!)

A Poem, And Many Things

Hail readers!

For the past week, I have been in the countryside; remote and without Internet, I was unable to keep the Magical Realm stocked with new content. Nevertheless, this is not to say that I have been idle. Quite to the contrary: I have a number of intriguing quests to undertake over the coming days, weeks and months.

Chiefly among these is, of course, the business of finishing the Ark. Presently I am engaged in completing the edits and revisions suggested to me by my editor; this is something I will soon—I hope—have completed. I have already finished revising part one; I am most of the way through part two.

Once I have finished that, the next task is of course to write part three. How long this will take is a question I am as yet unable to answer—I tentatively hope by October, but then I have already missed some of my more optimistic deadlines. Ultimately this will depend on how much free time I have at university; with perseverance and determination, hopefully enough.

But this does lead me onto the third key task. Do you recall me mentioning a company by the name of Publishizer? To recap, I was put into contact with them courtesy of Reedsy—the company I used to commission the editor. I completed their application close to a month ago; about a week ago, one of Publishizer’s representatives arranged a Skype meeting with me.

The exact details of that conversation I will not fully divulge here, for numerous reasons (and not all of them secret). But what I will say is that I was made an interesting offer. The crux of it is this: provided that I manage to get 250 pre-orders of my book by starting a campaign on their website, they will then put me through their accelerator programme.

This programme, according to them, has a high success rate: the large majority of authors who are put through it manage to obtain a contract from a publisher.

But this does, of course, imply getting 250 pre-orders on my own. This is not a trivial task. And it won’t happen straight away: I have yet to finish the book, and the campaign has only a few weeks to get those pre-orders.

However, it does mean that I will be stepping up my efforts to garner attention for the Ark. As part of this, I will be creating a mailing list.

This will likely be a weekly endeavour: if you sign up to it, you will receive an email every week. The email will contain various progress updates, tidbits of information, and samples from the Ark. Interested? Then do keep an eye out on the Magical Realm—I will have some sort of submission form available soon.

There is also another topic that may interest you. Previously, I wrote an article entitled ‘The Allure of the Bad Boy’. I shared this article with my writer friend, Karen; this elicited a strong response. We have therefore decided to stage a debate on our blogs. Soon, Karen will publish her response; both she and I will link to each other’s posts.

I will then, in turn, publish a counter-response. Do tune it.

What of the Poem?

Finally, allow me to address the title of this post. Though I am very involved in numerous undertakings (as you can see), I have somehow managed to compose another poem. It is entitled ‘The Mirror, the Room, and the Dreams’ which is perhaps rather verbose.

In any case, the crux of it is this. The poem is escapist; it is about dreaming of greater things than the cold prison in which the dreamer is immured. It is about beautiful, far away places—and the magic of getting there.

The mirror, of course, is literal (in that it allows the dreamer to dream, and ultimately to escape) but also serves a metaphorical role. If I were of a Freudian persuasion, I would perhaps think it represents my writing. But since I am not Sigmund Freud, I suggest you substitute your own explanations.

With that, I must conclude this post. Keep an eye out for the debate, for the mailing list, and for the many milestones of this long journey.

The Mirror, the Room, and the Dreams

Europe

Hail readers!

You may wondering as to the title of this post. For one, it is a single word; those of you who follow the Magical Realm know I tend to be rather more longwinded than that. For two, it builds on two of my previous posts: A Socialist’s Case for Europe and of course, Alex, in Brussels. The reason for today’s post is down to a simple fact: a single word can sometimes convey a lot—more, indeed, than a sentence.

First on my Europe-list is my offer from Amsterdam University College. Yes; after much time spent writing personal statements, annoying my teachers until they wrote me their references, and going through an interview, I have been accepted. Obviously, this pleases me. Will I go there? That is a decision I have to make; but ultimately, I don’t think it will be a particularly tough decision.

Aside from this, there is plenty more I have been doing in Europe. I have, for one, met Sion Simon MEP in the European Parliament. I was also given an (abridged) guided tour of the Parliament building, by John Cornah (thanks!) Naturally, I took photos. You can see them below, along with photos of a few other landmarks I’ve visited while here. (As you may be able to guess, I hope more will follow.)

Photos

Concerning Brussels

You may be expecting me to extol the virtues of Brussels. Aside from my Europhile pretensions, I love most European cities. You’ll find plenty of praise from me when it comes to the Colosseo in Rome; Las Ramblas in Barcelona; the technocratic beauty of Frankfurt, Hamburg, et al; the idyllic mountains of Schwabia; the Champs-Élysées in Paris, and all of the other many and varied landmarks of Europe.

Sadly, Brussels is disappointing—for the capital of Europe, in any case. The traffic is nightmarish. I have never seen a city with so many intersections, and with pedestrian crossings right as you enter the street; I have never seen so many lanes narrowing without explanation, so many one-way streets, dead-ends, and bizarre angles.

Drivers in Brussels are also awful. The rest of Belgium doesn’t seem to drive like them, but here they’ll cut you off, blare horns at you, and generally drive without apparent regard to safety or road regulations.

The city itself is also somewhat disappointing. Many of the buildings are high rise towers built without any sense of architectural style. Many buildings are old and badly maintained; and even the landmarks disappoint—the offices of the WTC, for example, look tasteless.

Nonetheless, while Brussels may not be the ideal tourist destination, it seems a pleasant enough place to live. We’ve not suffered noise in the hotel, despite being a few kilometres from the centre. The Internet is fast (always a plus). There are numerous shops selling varied and interesting produce—a vast array of bread, cheeses, wine, and even Turkish foods.

Moving On—To Poetry

To finish this post, I will be releasing a poem I have been planning to write for a while now. It is my very first political poem. Whereas my other poems address matters like love, mystical worlds, gender, power and art; this poem is about nations. It is about unity. It is named That Great Continent.

That Great Continent

Any thoughts on it are welcome.

Parting Words

I have not addressed my writing progress here, or my revision efforts, or a great deal other things going on with me. This is because, frankly, I am quite busy here in Brussels. Aside from my visiting, I need to sign a letter of acceptance for Amsterdam, pay a deposit, and get on with revising for my A-levels.

But once the pressure eases a little, I will get onto my writing once more. There is a lot of work to do there...

Until then—au revoir.

Exams, Elections, and Poetry

Hail readers!

You may be wondering where I have been and what I have been doing these past several days. It would be a fair question; I have not updated the Magical Realm in a fair while. As for the answer?

Blame it on a few things. Firstly, this will be my last update bar one before my A2 exams begin. Yes, it’s that time of the year. Yes, I have been revising. And yes, I am reasonably confident. But no, I hate exams.

Anyway, that’s the first reason. The second reason is that I’ve been writing on the topic of the EU referendum; I have a near 5000 word essay completed, and will likely be adding more to it before I publish it. I actually finished the essay a few days ago, but declined to publish it because the media was in furore over Livingstone’s Hitler comments and, later, on the local elections. Thus I decided it was best to postpone its publication.

Now that media attention is slowly returning to Europe, expect to see the essay pop up soon. Perhaps once my exams begin, since I won’t have time to do any blogging at all then.

There is also a third reason: I have been working on the Ark with my editor. I have written a synopsis (since numerous agents ask for one) and the editor has gotten back to me with comments on it. Then I did a couple of edits, and sent it back to her. Such is the process of editing.

As for the Ark itself, my editor claims—optimistically, knowing her recent track record—that she’ll read and assess the manuscript by May 16th. I’ll see how that goes.

Oh, and there is yet another thing. I have applied to two Dutch universities, and one—Amsterdam—has offered to do an informal interview with me on (who would have thought?) May 16th. Thankfully, it is via Skype and only about 20 minutes long. In any case: wish me luck!

But That’s Not All

Those of you who follow me would know that I am a keen political blogger (being a member of the Labour party and having written numerous pieces on Socialism and Social Democracy). Therefore, it would be strange of me not to give my analysis on the local elections, mayoral results, and the election to the Scottish parliament & Welsh assembly.

Firstly, on the local elections. The media, predictably, was in furore. Numerous pieces were published claiming that Corbyn was to be shown up for the disaster he is; one supposedly well-known academic even claimed that Labour was to lose 150 seats in the south of England. Numerous other apocalyptic predictions were rife.

It turned out that Labour retained pretty much all of its seats.

With that prediction shattered (a prediction which the media conveniently forgot about) another prediction was to be shattered. Labour was predicted to lose badly in the Bristol mayoral election. The Labour candidate won.

In other mayoral news, Sadiq Khan is now mayor of London. This is great for several reasons. One, it means London has a Labour mayor; a boost for Corbyn. Two, London has a moderate Muslim mayor (I’m not terribly fond of Islam in general, but Khan is a good role model for disenfranchised Muslims to look at). Three, that buffoon is no longer mayor. And four, the Tory candidate’s dog-whistle racism didn’t get him anywhere.

Nevertheless, there is some bad news and some disappointing news. The bad news is Scotland: Labour has done atrociously there, down to 19% of the vote—lower even than what it got in the GE. This is obviously very disturbing, and doubly disturbing considering that Corbyn is now at the helm of the Labour party (and therefore matches the leftwing policies of the SNP).

The answer to why Scottish Labour did badly is not one that I know. Not one many people know, I should think. There are a few plausible reasons. Firstly, the leader of Scottish Labour—Kezia Dugdale—is, from what I have heard, not the best example of political leadership the world has seen.

Secondly, there may be a case of credibility at play; the Scots may not be very impressed by how not only the English establishment, but even Corbyn’s own party, has treated Corbyn. The Scots who voted SNP this election may be thinking: why vote Corbyn when you can get Corbyn policies via the SNP—a party that doesn’t conspire to undermine its own leader by cavorting with the parties’ enemies in the rightwing press.

Thirdly, there’s the independence question, and potentially even the EU debacle. The majority of Scots (55%) voted against independence, but the SNP has 47% of the vote. So potentially more Scots have gone over to the Independence side. Why? Well, the EU referendum could be one reason.

I however am skeptical of this. I doubt the elections to the Scottish parliament were determined entirely by Independence politics seeing as to how only a referendum will actually make Scotland independent.

The Tory party also saw a modest increase in the vote up in Scotland (from less than 20% to 25% of the vote) which is potentially a result of either the Scottish Tory’s leader—which I frankly doubt, seeing her lack of political success in numerous elections before 2016—or more likely the Tories were voted for as an anti-Independence vote.

As for Wales, Labour kept its position as the largest party but lost some votes.

Strategy Going Forward

The first thing Labour has to worry about is Scotland. If Labour does not do well in Scotland come 2020, Labour will almost certainly not have enough seats to form a majority. It could go into coalition with the SNP, but that poses some problems (the SNP would be an anti-union party governing the United Kingdom!) There’s also the element of the rightwing press spreading FUD about the SNP controlling Labour behind the scenes, but I’m not entirely sure as to how effective this will be.

If Labour wants to be a firm Unionist party, it could pick up votes from the Scots who voted against independence (presumably the majority). Unfortunately, the anti-independence vote is split towards the Tories, Lib Dems, etc. So this may not be enough.

Alternately, Labour could take a more non-committal position. It could say ‘We’re not so sure of this independence thing, but ultimately it’s for the Scottish people to decide and only a referendum will decide the matter.’ So potentially Labour could pick up both pro and against voters.

But then, why will the Scots vote Labour instead of SNP? There’s not much difference in policy at all between us and them. Then again: Labour was the natural governing party of Scotland for decades. Perhaps if some of our MPs chose to shut up and stop attacking Corbyn for a while, the Scots may take us in higher esteem.

In any case, it’s clear that throwing mud at the SNP won’t work. They’ve run a competent administration implementing Corbyn-like policy. Throwing mud hasn’t worked in these two elections; and it won’t work with Corbyn at the helm, since it will reek of a) hypocrisy and b) general bad manners.

The Million-Dollar Question: What About Corbyn?

The media’s apocalyptic predictions did not come to pass. This should surprise no one with a brain. However, the local election results—in contrast with the mayoralties—don’t show a dramatic victory for Corbyn.

Partly this is because Labour did fairly well in the previous election, and because Labour is already the most successful local party by quite a margin (nearly two thirds of councillors and councils are Labour). This makes it difficult for Corbyn to really improve upon Labour’s position.

Also, analysis by the BBC would suggest that if people voted in the GE in the same way the voted in these elections, Labour would be ahead of the Tories (on 31% versus 29% for the Tories). However, these two elections are rarely voted on in the same way and by the same people, so it’s a bit of a moot point.

The one thing that is disturbing is that the Tories should, really, have gotten a thrashing. They’re in chaos over Europe; forced academisation is not popular with the electorate; and Osborne has already had to U-turn on working tax credit. Plus, Cameron and Osborne have been embroiled in the Panama debacle.

So, is this Corbyn’s fault? Maybe, maybe not. It’s a bit too early to tell, really. And the EU referendum could change a lot of things. My take on it? Let’s wait and see. Give Corbyn a chance before replacing him. But if Corbyn doesn’t do well—find someone more personable.

Conclusions

I have written a great deal on matters personal and political. Since I need to focus on my exams, you can understand why. Aside from the EU essay I will be releasing soon, this will be my last post until June.

I will leave you with a final little treat. A poem. It is based on plans for a future book, so do take a look. ;)

The Hinterlands

The Ark, and Completion

Hail readers!

My news regarding the Ark has been sporadic, I must admit: often I was more pre-occupied writing essays concerning things like the Soviet Union, Corbyn (alas he is not so omnipresent as before) and even my scathing critique of Toryism. But with all this set aside, my focus is still on the Ark.

In the Upcoming page, I mention the ‘estimated date of completion’ to be around the end of February. Alas, with February’s end fast approaching, that deadline proved optimistic.

On the good side—I’ve written 54,000 words and about 270 pages. This is respectable progress: I am now more than halfway through the completion of what was, months ago, little more than a dream. Granted, I did not in fact dream the Ark; but the process by which I experience new stories is not altogether dissimilar. The Ark started off as a fragment—a very vivid, inspiring fragment albeit. I saw the Ark dominating a deep blue sky; I saw Casey’s ocean-blue eyes mirror it below; and I felt their love.

Anyway, that was a bit tangential. The bad news is that I’m not finished; and I have my A2 exams coming up towards May. This means it is unlikely I will finish the Ark before, oh, June or so. Maybe August. Such is the nature of the business, folks; a writer’s greatest virtue, after all, is patience.

There are also a number of other tasks I intend to perform along with completion of the first draft. Firstly, I wish to obtain more feedback—professional feedback. I’ve had the serendipity to find Reedsy; a website devoted to the the professionals behind books. I can find book designers, cartographers, and of course: editors.

I’ll likely solicit an editorial review from one such editor. They will address a number of things, including:

1. The book’s ability to interest an agent;
2. What might make an agent more interested;
3. The book’s ability to interest a publisher;
4. Editorial feedback about writing, characterisation, and plot.

After that, I’ll also likely get my cover letter looked at by an editor. The cover letter will be sent to agents—it’s important, because it gives first impressions (and first impressions are always important).

This will cost a few pretty pennies, but is still cheaper than a serious self-publishing effort. For the Necromancer, which I released on Halloween the year before last (making it a year and four months and since publication—whew!) I ended up spending:

1. Approximately £160 on cover design and the creation of marketing materials;
2. £120 on map design;
3. About a £100 on various marketing;
4. Close to £200 for the print copies and the associated shipping.

Grand total: £580

If I were to self-publish the Ark, I could easily surpass that figure. This is not impossible for me to do financially: my grandparents have given me an eighteenth birthday present that could cover that and more. But it’s not something I’d take lightly to doing.

And yet there are more important reasons still for why I’m choosing the traditional route.

Why Alex Won’t Be Self-Publishing, This Time

The first order of concern is time. Unless I am to spend a great deal of money getting reviewers and hiring a professional to market for me, I am going to have to do a fair amount of marketing myself. I simply do not have the time to realistically do this; school, and later university, will be chief concerns. What’s more—even hiring a marketing team would still drain time. Add to that:

1. Co-ordinating and working with the designers (which requires a lot of input from me!);
2. Editing—a lot of time is needed to review the edits, talk over the entire minutiae of the book over with the editor, and often times re-write, remove content, or add new content;
3. Formatting takes time, especially if there are technical hiccups along the way;
4. It takes time to submit the book to the various retailers, to Lulu, to order and get printed copies, and more;
5. All of the above would have to be co-ordinated by me, and the marketing team would need to know deadlines, review the cover, perhaps themselves request things from the designer, etc. etc.

I also, to be honest, fancy getting an advance. There will be expenses to recoup, and plenty of money will be needed at university.

Besides that: I’ve never done it before. I’m curious to experience the process.

Keeping You Busy

Let’s face it: this process will take months. And the publisher could take months to perform all the various complex tasks aforementioned. The actual book could be out next year!

So: I’ve decided to release snippets of the Ark. I’ve already done this once—and indeed I have released sample chapters on the Upcoming page—but it’s good to release more. Along with that, you’ll get my thoughts and difficulties. Later on, you’ll get my experience of the editing process. And to top it all off: you’ll get to read what my beta readers think.

On top of all that, I will be releasing more… essays! I’ll be working on one such, entitled ‘Social Democracy versus Socialism’ soon. Others will follow it. (I’ve already done a pretty good job of turning this blog into a library of political philosophy though, haven’t I?)

And, I’ll be working on some poetry. I won’t say too much about this right now—I’ve promised another poem on the topic of love; others will also follow.

Conclusions

The road travelled by a writer is a long one, and fraught with many an unknown difficulty. That said, there is many a beautiful sight along the way; and the destination—that could be heaven!

Besides that, there will be much going on here on the Magical Realm. I’ve already detailed much of it. And, I may find the time to do one more thing: re-theme and expand the blog’s capabilities. Perhaps I’ll have an updating feed dedicated to my political musings. I’ve touched on this before.

Now, I leave you. Bid me good luck.

Alex.

Seeking Love—a Poem

Previously, I wrote on all of my goings on thus far—including my progress on the Ark, and more thoughts on Jeremy Corbyn. I was planning on writing, today, about that contentious political figure; however, I have decided to postpone this momentarily for something else: a poem.

I wrote Seeking Love (as it is now named) as part of my efforts in the Ark. I thought it quite fitting, you see—’tis only too close to my protagonists’ hearts. Nevertheless, its length compels me to at least consider shortening it, or including only an extract in the actual novel.

As for the poem itself: firstly, please do read it.

Now, I’ll not beat around the bush here. This poem is a little unusual, like some of my works are. For one, it is both a romantic poem and a poem set in Norse mythology; it’s a rare combination. Even so, reading it one may discern why I ended up doing it the way I did:

And so they set sail.
Many lands, they sought;
Great storms, wrought of bright thunder and fury
Did not keep them from Nordrland.

There, they sought women.
Tall, and strong, and blonde; beautiful, perhaps
To some; but not to them.
And so they called good cheer, and left.

Throughout the poem we see this; I am talking about… a peculiar phantasmagoria—the ‘great storms, wrought of bright thunder and fury’, for example, are evocative of the atmosphere that characterises the Norse tales.

There’s also a certain aptness when you combine such writing with:

‘But,’ says Jörg, ‘at least we’ve found—
‘A kinship; a warm strength to draw on
‘A desire met and quenched;
‘A soft word spoken in the night.’

Besides these literary technicalities, there’s the obvious: Seeking Love is not only a poem about love, but about two men. In the likely event that you have noticed the fact that they seek women, but end up together, allow me to allay any speculation: no, the poem is not making any assertions about sexuality. That’s not the point.

The point is rather more simple: it’s about looking long, and hard, for that which can never be sought. When, really, you should be looking rather closer to home...

The Long Summer

‘Alex!’ you cry; ‘we wait; you do not come; we despair—the sun burns.’ And you’d be right—about the latter proposition, at least. England, land of rolling hills and cool summers, has become rather warm as of late. I would claim the inclement sun the cause of these vicissitudes; but my lackadaisical blogging efforts owe more to something else.

You see, I have spent a fair few hours writing an essay. It is entitled On Greece and the Eurozone; and as you can guess, it concerns the Greek crisis. I have submitted it to the Royal Economic Society but a few hours past. I shall not go into detail, however; for fate (or indeed the Society’s tedious regulations) compel me to keep it unpublished until the winners are revealed.

That will occur towards the end of this month. Wish me luck, as they say; and do keep an eye out. The topic is proving remarkably contentious and complex.

And though the rules forbid me detailing the essay, I can at least say this: the cause of the Greek crisis does not owe its origin to debt, or at least not as greatly as many think; and yet, equally, there is more to this particular puzzle than the depredations of austerity.

In any case: I have a news. Firstly—summer.

The Sun, it Doth Burn Bright; But Denmark Forsakes its Warm Caress

As you may be able to ascertain from the title, I shall be spending time in… Denmark, over the summer. I leave in a few weeks; I shall stay for twelve days and eleven nights. Denmark, I’m hoping, shall prove pleasantly cool. I may even take a dip in the sea; though that, of course, will require the perusal of a good wetsuit.

But before I leave the for the Danelore, I shall spend a few days in Linz (that’s in Austria, dear). There, I shall hike, enjoy the hotel spa, and of course: I shall write.

First on the pecking order is the Ark. I have spoken of it, but then I shall turn promises into words; and, in the meanwhile, I’ll be updating you on the Upcoming page. That has yet to be created, but as I say: patience is the virtue of every good writer.

I shall also look into finishing the Fallen Saga—a project that has proven intriguing, though difficult. My next poem will likely contain the themes of summer (in contrast to Jörmunísskast)—for reasons I need not elucidate—but, unlike the Summer Days, this particular work will be imbued with all the darkness befitting of the Fallen Saga.

Until then, keep following. Not only shall I be writing the Ark, but I may even find the opportunity to do a collaboration post. The topic? Socialism. Yes; it’s that time of the year…

Musings on the Fallen Saga

If you’ve been reading this blog of mine, you’ll have realised I’ve promised a lot—analysis, poetry, reviews, and an upcoming book all plan to make a debut. You may even be wondering if I, perhaps, am capable of so many a mean feat. But rest assured: I never decline a challenge.

For starters, the aforementioned book review—on Epiphanies whilst High out of One’s Mind, by Abigail Lee—is to be released on the 18^th of June. It concerns marijuana (or ‘pot’): the author details her personal experiences of the dubious substance, along with presenting evidence and argument for its liberalisation. Will she convince me? I doubt it; but the book has thus far proven informative and entertaining. And I am certain my review shall be pleasing, both for her—and for you, my dear reader.

Dubious substances aside, let’s get down to the subject of this post: the Fallen Saga.

The Narrative

The Fallen Saga, of course, is as yet incomplete. Nevertheless, I have several musings to share with you, both on the nature of its present narrative arc; and on likely future additions.

If you haven’t done so already, do read the Fallen Saga.

We begin with Peace, in which we are introduced to the setting:

In lands cold and far
The mighty castle gazes
Upon peaks of rocky countenance
Enmeshed in Winter’s mellow grasp…

Though this installment does not detail the setting by name, I will in fact mention it to be the Valley of Souls. The theologically minded among you may wonder if I am referring to the ‘Valley of Soulmaking’ of the Irenaean theodicies proposed by the likes of Hick; this is indeed the case.

In simpler terms, the Valley of Souls is a place of free will; good may exist, and so may evil. In some ways, the struggle between the Angels of the Light and their dark brethren is one of man’s struggle to ascertain his place in the world: to find meaning in an existence without explanation, purpose in a world defined by its very freedom.

‘Alex!’ you may cry; ‘does this not present these characters of yours as being less the mighty angels, more the confused children?’ Indeed; this very critique is levelled against the Iranaean theodicy (among many more). Nevertheless, there is a kernel of truth to it: for both man and angel suffer from confusion, uncertainty; vascillation in matters crucial. Make of this what you wish.

Queer theological musings aside, the Fallen Saga’s next incarnation is simple enough in purpose: our world—though possessed the verisimilitudinal qualities that are named peace, order, and life—is still, at its heart, a place of chaos. Such quaint metaphors as:

The trees shiver in tremulous awe
As if they fear not the fires from the ether.

Only serve to show that such calm, permanent features—the trees, the sky, the power of our weapons (‘The cries of mighty dragons / Fall silent.’)—are but illusion in the face of greater things.

In the Darkness Arisen, our narrative progresses to the dawn before the war. We begin with an insight into the great discontent—even injustice—that marks the Dark Ones:

Exiled, we were;
Exiled, for we dared to question—dared
To believe
Not in empty promises light
But in a future ruled
By the free.

Is freedom—no matter where it leads, no matter what the cost—a worthy ideal? And is it worth fighting for?

Moving on, we are later introduced to Merthiol. He’s a curious hero, is Merthiol—and by this I do mean hero in the classical sense: human, god-like… somehow quietly ordinary, yet truly exceptional. And of course, Merthiol is a saviour. Of what, well; that’s a difficult question. Does he support the Light—or the Dark? Or has he transcended this bitter schism, to view life as an experience not marked by polarities; by purpose in strife: but rather, by the common experience of beautiful existence?

Our next chapter is aptly entitled Dulce Bellum Inexpertis (‘how sweet is war, for those that know it not’).

My love for metaphors, as you may know, is only superceded by my love of pathetic fallacy (itself a kind of metaphor). Take this:

Oh, how sweet is war!
How the very earth trembles in awe
And delighted fear; how even the sky—seemingly
So insouciant; so untroubled by dark countenance—
How even it must grow vermilion
As if in sweet expectancy.

There’s a fitting irony to it: the sky, initially an object of wonder (at its immutable face as well as it grace) is now an accomplice in this distinctly dark turn of events.

In any case: Dulce Bellum Inexpertis does, indeed, bring in war. There’s an inevitability to it; as if—for all the posturing on discussion and diplomacy—at the end of it all, fate is decided only by battle.

Merthiol, interestingly, actually does debate—with the narrator. (I shall make no mention of the narrator, thought their identity is one you perhaps ought guess.) In one stanza, the narrator urges Merthiol to act; but not for the sake of angel or demon—no: Merthiol ought act for the sake of humanity.

Merthiol! Do you not wish
To see the moon reflect your eyes once more;
Do you not wish
Sweet peace; sweet human life
Forevermore?
Stop them, Merthiol!

You may however notice that humanity hasn’t actually come into play yet. Why? Well, that may be because it’s been about humanity all along. But I shan’t say no more of that! Instead, permit me to offer a suggestion:

Merthiol!
‘Aye, teller of truth,’ says he;
‘Do you wish me—indeed—
‘To bring peace to tormented souls?’ he asks
As if in jest.
‘In light, shall they not abandon us for good?’

Our hitherto latest episode is entitled Lucifer. His portrayal is a sympathetic one, it may be argued: for Lucifer rebelled not for arrogance’s vacuous placations, nor for the sake of Pride’s empty promises. Lucifer is a warrior; his fate was foretold, created, and destined for all of eternity.

And yet, he is a warrior pledged to nothing. Battle—though grand and awesome—can bring neither contentment nor resolution. Though perhaps this battle; perhaps it may change the course of Fate.

I have spoken enough. If you wish for further musings, do tell. But now, I must leave you. Expect further installments—soon. Until then: may the stars be with you…

Greetings, oh Patient Ones

Hail readers!

Firstly, I take it you have been acquainted with me and my friend’s musings on education herewith? If not, do take a look.

In any case, I have news. Important news—but that’s what I always say. Chiefly among these: exams. Yes; our dear friends. Though I’m pleased to say I have already undertaken the majority (they proved a reasonable enough endeavour) I do nevertheless have two left. These are Physics (to be undertaken tomorrow) and mechanics. You will, I am sure, forgive me for my less-than-keen blogging henceforth.

But onto more pleasant matters! I have another installment in the Fallen Saga available for your perusal. Its name? Lucifer. You shan’t be surprised to hear of this, I might think—the Saga is, after all, of a war between angels and demons—but you may be surprised to know that, rather than focusing on Lucifer’s discontent through the more traditional means (Lucifer’s pride, God’s totalitarianism) this work takes a different interpretation: Lucifer as a born warrior.

’Tis a sad fate, for any warrior: to be confined to impotence and subservience for millennia; to fight wars, briefly, ingloriously; and to then be relegated to the post of obedience.

The element of plot, you may notice, only manifests itself towards the end. In some ways, war is an inevitable consequence of disempowerment… and also, perhaps, the only way to gain justice. But war can be fought for many a reason, and for the warrior, release is often reason enough. But can release lead to salvation?

‘Alex!’ you cry; ‘give us the damn poem already, instead of all this analytical bullshit.’ That I shall do. This time, the poem is inline—blame this on my currently limited school software. (And on revising for exams.)

You have been called many names
Oh great warrior:
You have been called Bearer
Of the Light; you have been
Known, too, as
Bequeather of the Dark.

Neither Heaven’s white fire
Nor, indeed, Hades’ sepulchral depths
Could vanquish your warrior spirit.

The Warrior—’tis well known:
He knows no true master; no puppet, is he,
To those of ambition great.
For he, the eternal soul, has been pledged not
To but fickle dictator desire, nor to ephemeral
Empire. Nay: the Warrior is pledged to Battle.

Battle! Is it in the gleaming armour;
The greedy battle-sworn sword; is it still
In the cries of the Fallen—the eternal, but forgotten?

Nay: for a Warrior
As you, oh Dark One, know so well
Has been pledged to fire. Even in peace—so
Cold, and yet so warm with promise—the Warrior,
He doth go restless; o’er fallen comrades, he walks
Ever keen to join, finding no solace among the living.

Was that, dear Lucifer, your curse?
You are too great, to be but temporal in life;
Only Battle’s age-old cry, can rouse you from false succour.

He rules, does Lucifer; rules in that throne
Forged of fire and blood, paying homage
To old Horace’s time-worn lies.
Though delighting in sweet wine (bless,
Dionysus, your protégée) Lucifer
Can but lust for release.

’Tis said that the greatest of rulers
Know their friends close; their enemies closer.
Poor Lucifer!

No matter your magnificence;
No matter your magnanimity;
You are without master, ever the quintessential Warrior.
And what cruel Creator! To bring to life
A being destined for death.
What fickle a whim must Creator carry!

But Lucifer! Come, oh great deceived;
There is yet hope; yet majesty
For one so injustly fated.

Pax, pro devotos;
Spiritus est temporalis.
Aye! There is yet hope for those doomed.
The Warrior, he is pledged to Battle; let thus
Battle commence.
It shall be the greatest of all; for such is the end.

Further analysis I shall give to you at a later date; so too will I make available a nice, updated PDF.

EDIT: an updated PDF (and a slightly revised Lucifer) are now available on the Poems page.

Finally, I have news on books. (Yes; those.) Firstly, I have reviewed a number of them recently—the Reviews page contains the latest. I have also just finished reading Prince of Fools (by Mark Lawrence, a favourite of mine) to which I shall provide a review in a reasonably prompt fashion.

You, however, likely don’t read this blog of mine merely for my critiques. My own works—the Necromancer, the Sandman, a novella I have kept quiet on, and my upcoming novel, the Ark—have of course not been forgotten. With regards to what is published, I shall release a marketing push after these wonderful exams of mine. The focus will be on reviews (for I am ever so vain), but a giveaway is also on the books. Keep following.

With regards to yet unpublished work, writing will commence in full; after, of course, exams. Details, alas, are short at this stage. My novella—the Vampire Eirik, a work concerning an unfortunate hike with the eponymous vampire and his human friend—will likely be released sometime this summer. My grandparents have promised me more cash for this endeavour; thank them.

The Vampire Eirik is not the piece d’resistance, of course. The Ark—a tale possessed of the potential that graces all inchoate works—is the one you ought watch out for.

I shan’t be too forthright with the detail (for it is bound to change) but know that it is of the struggle of two lovers in a world that has so little patience for love, and yet so much need of it; that there will be pain, and joy, and surprises both beautiful and terrible; it will be… the Ark.

There’s something strange about it; something implausible in that ludicrous size, those impossible angles and shapes, something strange—indeed—in the sheer ambition of the thing. History has taught us that war, not salvation, is man’s greatest achievement. As for the Ark: who can tell? It has enough firepower to blow this country off the map. It can only succeed. And yet equally, it can save millions from damnation. It can only fail.

---

I’ve often wondered at love. In younger days, I thought it a feeling inside—a squeezing of the heart; a hope, a flower, too beautiful to ever bloom; I thought it curious, overpowering, empowering. Today—in wiser days—I know that love isn’t just a feeling. Love is what you get when the universe aligns, and the other person feels the same same way about you.

---

Years ago—centuries past—man’s greatest lie was in believing he could control his fellow man; that, by virtue of his status, or position, or wealth, other men could only bow to his will. Later, man’s greatest lie was in believing nature subdued—as if, instead of being fragile, ephemeral creatures no more relevant to the machinations of the universe than some inconsequential speck of dust, we were instead Gods, posessed of some divine faculty of intuition and greatness.

Today man has deceived himself into believing he is a traveller of the stars. We are doomed. Our existence was a fluke; a brief dawn of kindness in Fate’s cruel heart.

Some have called me a pessimist. My take on it? Sit back and enjoy the popcorn. It’s gonna be one hell of a ride.

I have spoken at great length. I would write more still—indeed I would set to work on the Ark, for these writer hands of mine grow impatient—but, alas, I have not the time. May the stars watch over you. And stick with me. You might just find there’s happy ending to this roller-coaster ride.

Greetings from the Ether

Hail faithful readers!

You may be wondering why Mr Stargazer has not posted his little interview with the theologian-come-fantasy-writer, Mrs Jenna Hiott. This, my dear, is because Mr Stargazer has actually been requested not to do so—and not, (as you are no doubt thinking) because he is a lazy bastard. Although, really, he is. But never mind.

And before you despair (and perhaps break some unfortunate nearby entities) know that the interview is not cancelled; merely delayed. (Yes, I know we all say that; but it’s true. Really.)

To further alleviate your fears, Mr Stargazer can confirm to have received the transcripts.

To answer your final question: the interview date is tomorrow.

Moving On...

Mr Stargazer has now, officially, moved house. This has proven to be a slightly traumatic experience—due in no small part to having no Internet access for four days, in which time he was unable to keep you lot on your feet—but it is now over. After carrying enough furniture to crush a car with, Mr Stargazer has everything in place.

As for the Fallen Saga (a collection of poems following a broad narrative of a war between angels and demons, for those unaware) that will be receiving a fourth episode; to read the first three, do acquiant yourself with the Poems page.

Stargazian Vicissitudes

Mr Stargazer is also terribly occupied with school. The final year exams are but a few months away; and Mr Stargazer ought be assiduously revising. That he ain’t doing (moving is a terrible business, as he says) and, furthermore, he has been busy researching universities.

There are good reasons for this also. Firstly, he must make the quintessential choice that troubles all burgeoning intelligentsia: Oxford, or Cambridge? With regards to the latter, monsieur Stargazer spent an entire day taking ‘Masterclasses’ at Corpus college. (He was, of course, selected by the school to attend; a fact which balloons his already remarkable ego, and must therefore not be mentioned.)

With regards to the former, our darling literati has already visited the university multiple times. He considers it most appealing—a difficult choice indeed.

Aside from this, Mr Stargazer has spent many an hour researching foreign universities. There are good causes for this too, of course. Firstly, the Dutch, Swedish and Swiss universities offering English bachelors provide a very international outlook—and this, in a globalised world, is rather valuable.

Secondly, English universities are—for many reasons, not least of which include the Tories, the lying Lib Dems, Labour, a cultural obsession with going to university for ‘fun’ (i.e. getting drunk and partying), and many more reasons besides—very expensive. Indeed, to study in the Netherlands, I would save £22,000—enough to buy a nice car. To study in Sweden, I would save £27,000; that’ll get me a Mercedes.

Finally, our darling Mr Stargazer finds England increasingly dull. England—though possessed of a great history, landmarks, and the quintessential green hills—lacks snow, mountains, easy access to mainland Europe, and multilinguality. It’s also quite poor in comparison to these other nations.

Okay, Alex, Can You Get on Already?

Tergiversations aside, I have over a week of holiday left. I will revise, and of more concern to you, I will write. Stay following for the interview, the poem, other blog tour goodies, and maybe even an essay or two.

Until then, may the stars watch over you...

The Saga Continues

Hail readers!

Today, another episode in the Fallen Saga shall be presented. But first: check out my interview on Books and Banter (link here). There, you may learn of dragons, magic, and the secrets of a writer.

Now, onto the third episode of the Saga—entitled, perhaps appropriately, the Darkness Arisen. First of all, give it a read:

Read the Fallen Saga: Episodes One to Three

I am, unfortunately, still busy with the miscellany of school (there are many after a mock exam); therefore, I shall concentrate on the more intriguing features of the Darkness Arisen. Take, for example:

We are the Fallen.
We have walked
As bearers of the light;
We have suffered, and destroyed
As vassals of the darkness.

First of all, note the juxtaposition of ‘Fallen’ and ‘walked / As bearers of the light’—the purpose of this is to play on the whole notion of fallen in rather literal terms. Note, too, the mention of suffering: the demons are not mere caricatures of evil, prancing around as if entertained by their own depredations. They have suffered. And maybe—just maybe—they act not out of inhuman malice, but out of a very human emotion.

Vengeance.

There are many more subtle (or hopefully subtle) little motifs. Take:

Exiled, for we dared to question—dared
To believe
Not in empty promises light

The ‘promises light’, of course, refers to those of Heaven and its leader; by context, they are implied devoid of merit—made as if by fickle whim, and just as easily broken.

These lines—

The fires of Inferno
Have burned our souls to dust;

—Are not merely there for effect (though that is a worthy enough reason, and they certainly ought paint a pretty picture); but also, they are a suggestion. Has the Demons’ punishment—exile in Hell—destroyed them? Has it made them evil? Or do these—

But—like the Phoenix arisen from the ashes of betrayal—
We shall return to righteous glory.

—suggest a substance of hope in its boastful claim?

You shall find out soon enough. Episode Four is to be written. Until then—there’s the interview…

Hey Ho! I Got Words

Hello faithful followers! I say faithful—you’d have to be, if you’ve managed to get through that ridiculously long lull in the posting. But rest assured: I have good reasons. Here; I’ll tell you, so you don’t stick my head on a pike.

Blog Book Tour (BBT)

With the help of the wonderful Sage at Sage’s Blog Tours, the Necromancer shall find its way to interesting blogs—and interested readers. That’s the plan, anyway. (We all know plans have a tendency to go... in surprising manners.)

I shall be quite busy with this. In addition to providing numerous materia (cover, bios, etc.) I shall be writing answers to interview questions and perhaps even doing some blogging on... other venues. (‘Traitor!’ you call; ‘do not abandon us; for we are not merciful.’)

The tour will last 8 weeks. If things go to plan, that will probably be prolonged. Hopefully I can get some excitement from you lot. Hopefully...

Tests

My lovely school does so love tests. Math tests (several of those—and hard ones too); mechanics tests; physics; philosophy; econ. Rinse and repeat. I have finally realised not to bother giving my all on them. Their true purpose is to identify weaknesses—and urge you to address them.

It’s not a pleasant way to go through education. Not only that, but; the tests themselves have some questions to answer. Heck, the entire damnable education systems need be asked questions! For one, they seem to prioritise memorising the (pedantic, absurd) mark schemes, over, you know—actual learning, passion and talent. And to top it all off: it has the effect of sticking us in a rat race.

As you can see, an essay on education is to be written. But let us move on...

Life

We’ve finally started to get some winter weather. We’ve had frost; we’re hoping for snow. Alas, nature is a fickle beast. She ought not be second guessed.

Additionally, there’s the cliched old being-with-friends excuse which I won’t bother you with.

What About Blogging?

Once the tests are over, I’ll be writing my (perhaps rather annoyed) post on education. And I shall also—surprise!—be releasing some more poetry.

Finally: I’ve made good my promise. Here’s a link to the first chapter of the Deathbringer—the prologue has also been included, in case you haven’t read it.

I am concerned with this sequel. I have... difficulties, with Linaera and Derien’s relationship. Frankly, it was an accident; a chance meeting of chance personalities. Then again—isn’t that how so many love tales begin?

If you’ve any questions or suggestions, feel free to contact me. (Hint: head over to the contact page.)

Read The Deathbringer: A Taster

Elf Boy

Dear Reader:

I have a poem for you to read. Although I am quite busy with promoting my book (it’s got flying zombies!) and doing my homework, and a few other things which you’ll find out in due course; I still feel compelled to write poetry. Perhaps it is something that will be with me for the rest of my life. And for that I’m glad—few things are as great as art, especially one so personal.

But I digress. The poem is called Elf Boy. It’s about a creature of the forest—the Elf Boy—and it’s about love. It a poem short, with a meaning clear; you only need read it.

Read

Poem: the Mirror

I have not been very active in my blogging as of late; indeed, one can say that I have not done very much blogging at all.

But rest assured that I do not idle or waste precious time. I am expecting my print copy to come in a couple of days—then marketing will begin in full. I have been occupied getting a bank account, requesting tax numbers (which still hasn’t come—phone calls needed), and corresponding with the various professionals needed to really put a book out there.

In short: publishing is a lot of work.

But today I have new poem. I have written it a couple of days ago, actually; and now I have time to present it to you, dear reader.

I have quite a few things coming up as well: I have a map to reveal; the Necromancer will be getting a page; and I’ll even be making a Facebook page. Except that it won’t be mine. No: it’ll be the Necromancer’s.

Poem: the Mirror

So what’s my latest concoction?

It’s about war. But it isn’t one of those eligies, with all their contrition and reminiscing of things no more. No: this poem is very much about the future. And of course, it’s metaphorical—life is never so simple.

The Mirror is Truth. It reveals our weaknesses, our strengths; and our delusions, both in beauty and in purpose.

The narrator is War. She is a strange creature: beautiful aesthetically; ugly at heart; and persuasive with illogic.

After all, war seems sweet until you taste its bitter reality.

Read The Mirror.

Why Modern Poetry... Sucks

A contentious title, is it not? But unfortunately, I believe it a true one. Don’t get me wrong: I have nothing against modern poets (I mean, I technically am one) and indeed some—like Carol Ann Duffy, to name my favourite—produce some excellent works.

And yet I cannot deny the fact that, reading most of today’s poetry—be it online, in a few books, or in literary journals—I have the powerful impression that there really aren’t many real poets out there. What gets classed as ‘poetry’ today possesses a certain… vacuousness, that would make poets—even those of a few decades ago—turn in their graves.

I’m not trying to be hyperbolic. Allow me to elaborate…

A Look Into Today’s Poetry

I shall not be naming and shaming; I don’t consider that kosher. Mostly, I shall be using examples created by myself. Take this one:

In my house
The song of radiators
Echoes into television dreams.

Actually, that’s a little too good for what I’m referring to. Let’s try again, this time with a poem by Anonymous:

So I want
To leave
A deep scratch
Of my mind
On the screen
Of the world
And walk along
With all bards
After my death
Hundreds of years
On soiled paths
And metal streets
Without my limbs
Blood and flesh
In haunting houses
And Joyous classes,
Make them feel
My hovering spirit
In emotional moments
In acts and deeds
Soothing souls
And agitated minds.

This actually isn’t bad, in the general standard of things. It’s biggest mistake is in being too long, having overly short lines, and overly bulky stanzas. (Let me paraphrase: it’s god awful hard to read.)

Closer examination, however, reveals a deeper problem. It’s meaningless. It has neither rhyme nor reason; and with that it no longer becomes a work of art—an expression of emotion, a creation of inherent desire—and instead becomes a vapid caricature.

Let’s delve into some specifics:

On soiled paths
And metal streets
Without my limbs
Blood and flesh
In haunting houses
And Joyous classes,

Does the adjective ‘soiled’ have any impact whatsoever on the meaning of the poem? Does it even create imagery? As far as I can see, it doesn’t. Nor, for that matter, does ‘metal’ in streets; for there are no such things, and neither is it metaphorical or used to evoke imagery.

‘Blood and flesh’ literally has no meaning whatsoever. You could remove it, and nothing would change. ‘Haunting houses’? Really? I know alliteration is effective, but this really is very forced. As for ‘Joyous classes’—why the capitalisation, what exactly is ‘Joyous’ supposed to mean in this context, and what type of ‘classes’ are we referring to exactly?

Perhaps Anon is referring to school classrooms? In which case, he is being: a) terribly vague; b) unrealistic; and c) not evoking of the image.

Basically, six entire lines are devoted to nothing at all.

Harsh? Yes: But Not Without Reason

You may think I am being harsh on the author. And indeed, I am: the idea of leaving an indelible mark upon society through art is certainly an interesting and powerful idea.

Trouble is, modern poets seem—on the whole—obsessed with joining words together instead of writing meaningful prose. Turgour is even worse of a problem than it was in the eighteenth century; for now that turgour is devoid of meaning.

And remember: this is actually pretty good for the ones I’ve seen. Most seem to have little relation to anything at all.

The Poet has Killed the Poem

That’s my final message, at the end of it all. There was a time when a poet could bring his work to the masses… and the masses could be expected to listen. They may not have understood everything; but still, the poem would have connected. They would have seen something of their lives, and of themselves. Perhaps they would enjoy life. Perhaps they would reform something of themselves.

At the least, they would feel something.

The killing began with pretentiousness. Poets began writing ever longer and more turgid works. The references to gods became too many and too obscure for the ordinary working class citizen to know or understand. And the structures! Complicated, twisting; difficult to read; harder still to speak.

At least poetry was still read (and enjoyed) by the academics and those of a literary disposition. Now, even writers pay them little attention; and poetry seems mainly to belong to a few niche circles.

This new fall came from the modern era. Poetry is no longer a an art form worth practising: it is now merely a way to express musings. Little snippets of words that just happened to be passing through your mind are now considered serious prose.

At first we stripped poetry of general appeal; then we stripped it of meaning; and now we condemn it to the work of the untalented and poor.

I am giving you two poems of mine to read. They both carry a message—one dramatic, the other subtle. I would submit them to literary magazines, but no one will read them even if they get published. (Which is easier said than done, considering hw pretentious and closed-minded they are.)

I would voice them; but who would listen? The organisations relevant—LGBT rights advocates, reason and science foundations—don’t do poetry. I wonder why. And good luck getting anyone on the street to listen.

Perhaps you, dear reader, are willing to give them look. And maybe you’ll take my message to heart. Don’t pretend they’re any good. Don’t pseudo-analyse and write praise that would seem fake even in an ad.

Repudiate. It’s bullshit, and you know it.

Read The Lover’s Curse—a dramatic fusion of rhyme and hexameter, on false social practice and oppression.

Read God the Sun: a subtle attack on the notion of an omni-benevolent god.