What Jay & Selina have been up to the last few years…

Jay

Jay has done a detailed post about what he’s been up to, including explaining The Forgotten Lives projects.


The Other Side, Forgotten Lives, Obverse Books (2020)

Cover art by Paul Hanley. Cover design by Cody Schell.

Borrowed Time, Forgotten Lives 2, Obverse Books (2022)

Cover art by John Pearson. Cover design by Cody Schell.

The Other Side & Borrowed Time (reprinted), Forgotten Lives Omnibus HC, Obverse Books (2023)


Who Needs Enemies, Forgotten Lives 3, Obverse Books (2023)

Cover art by Paul Hanley. Cover design by Cody Schell.

Selina

Selina has been struggling to write for a variety of reasons, she is halfway through writing a long overdue novella for Obverse Books. She has been procrastinating by making cards, junk journals and indulging in other crafting. She did manage to get a couple of short stories published:


Diary of Jane Birch (Maid Servant), Other Lives in Samuel Pepys’s Diary: A Collection of Creative Writing inspired by Pepys’s journal of the 1660s, University of Leicester (2022) – Free to Read.

This story came out of a “creative writing workshop run by the ‘Reimagining the Restoration’ project. The workshop introduced members of the public to new research on Pepys’s diary, with a focus on figures from groups that are under-represented in standard historical sources.”

It was an excellent online workshop which inspired me to write this story about Pepys’s maid servant Jane Birch, based on one of the anecdotes in his diary.

Live readings of the stories took place as part of an online event and the writers agreed that the tales should also be made available as a free to read ebook.


Inert, Alight, Dreamland: Other Stories, Black Shuck Books (2021).

Dreamland: Other Stories was shortlisted for the British Fantasy Society Best Anthology Award in 2022.

I was very pleased to have a story in this fabulously weird anthology, alongside some of the best horror/surrealist/sff female-identifying writers around. My story was inspired by a photo I saw of a neon salesman’s sample case circa 1935.

Forgotten No More

Jay writes – Now that we have the Factor Fiction website back up and open for business again, and seeing that we’ve not posted since 2019, I should say something about what I’ve been up to since then. Well, for starters, the pandemic had a massive impact on my writing. For a long time, I just couldn’t put fingers to keyboard on anything beyond the odd social media post. Any creative writing became like pulling teeth, and all my usual strategies to get me writing failed. So, not very much to report, I’m afraid. There’s a lot of projects in process, but incomplete, and not in a place I can talk much about at this stage.

But, in terms of things I’ve written that you could, should you desire, seek out and read, the lion’s share of my fiction is in my involvement with Obverse Books’ Doctor Who-adjacent Forgotten Lives short story anthologies.

Drawn from what was until relatively recently, a single mention in any TV Doctor Who story (1976’s Tom Baker story The Brain of Morbius), the “Morbius Doctors” were a series of eight faces that popped up on screen during a mental battle between Time Lords. When the Doctor is winning, the images are those of Morbius and his past incarnations, but then the tide turns, and Morbius pushes the Doctor back through his past lives. The idea suggests that when you reach the earliest point in their life, they’ll likely die. An interesting conceit, and a good way of reminding viewers of the actors who played the role over the years. All well and good, but Baker becomes Pertwee, Troughton and “the First Doctor”, Hartnell. And keeps going…

The Fourth Doctor matches wits with Morbius, in the Brain of Morbius.

Eight more unfamiliar male Caucasian faces, some bearded, all dressed flamboyantly. It would later turn out that the models for these figures were all members of the production team. Directors, producers and writers, let loose to play dress-up in the BBC wardrobe. No onscreen explanation offered, but the logic of the story is pretty clear. The First Doctor was not first at all. Reconciling that with The Three Doctors, where Hartnell meets his future selves and cries “So there are three of me now!” suggests that the Doctors we’re familiar with do not remember their lives before Hartnell.

Most of the Morbius Doctors, as they appeared onscreen.

Whether the producers had any intent to revisit the idea or intended it just as a bit of fun, no TV story touched the idea with a barge pole until relatively recently with Chris Chibnall’s “Timeless Child” storyline, and Russell T Davies has referred to it again in the most recent series.

Forgotten Lives was born in order to explore what sort of personalities these pre-Hartnell Doctors might have.

Designed to be tonally different, each could be a bit Doctorish at times, but capable of acting very differently. I tend to think of it as the story arc of Daniel Craig in Casino Royale. At first, very unlike Bond, but as he goes, we see him becoming more familiar, and the soundtrack reinforces it with little stings of the Bond theme at appropriate moments.

Those of us who were chosen to embody these new incarnations had certain strictures placed upon us. Things that weren’t revealed in the show until later couldn’t be used, so while the Doctor’s homeworld could appear, we couldn’t call it Gallifrey, for example. All we had to go on was one or two still photographs of the “actors” in costume and the order in which the incarnations fell. Knowing who they were (such as Producer Philip Hinchcliffe and Script Editor Robert Holmes), there were interviews and promotional appearances to draw on if we wanted to. The actors cast as the Doctor have always added elements of their own personality to their portrayal, so it made sense to me to add little bits of Robert Holmes’ personality into the mix for my 7th Morbius Doctor. For starters, he absolutely had to be a pipe smoker. I wanted my Doctor to be a lone wolf. Doctor Who meets John Le Carre, if you will, he’s an intergalactic spy, an agent on behalf of his people (something the Doctor has done at times), but entirely against his wishes. If he was ever an idealist, service has soured him, much as it did to Alec Leamas in The Spy Who Came in From the Cold. As much as he’s working to fulfil his mission, he’s working towards escape from servitude too. In the promotion we did for Forgotten Lives, I was asked to use three words to describe the Holmes Doctor. I said “Ten. Steps. Ahead.”

Parallel to the writing of our Forgotten Lives stories, artist Paul Hanley was producing portraits of the Morbius Doctors, and I was lucky enough to have his interpretation of the Holmes Doctor and his glorious TARDIS console room design to look at while I was investing life into the character, so I could incorporate elements I particularly liked into my story. It made perfect sense to combine efforts and so Paul’s wonderful likenesses became part of the first volume, both interior and as the cover artwork. I’m especially chuffed that HolmesDoc is front and centre on the cover and the Doctors are all in “my” TARDIS.

Cover art by Paul Hanley. Cover design by Cody Schell. The Holmes Doctor front and centre in the blue cape.

Because of BBC copyright, doing anything with these characters has always been the province of fan writers, so the Forgotten Lives books were done as strictly limited editions, with profits going to Alzheimers charities. The book sold well and was warmly received. Those who contributed stories leapt at the chance to tell another, and so Forgotten Lives 2 came about, and then a hardback collection of books 1 and 2. And still, we weren’t quite done. Some time later, editor Phil Purser-Hallard had an overarching story idea for Forgotten Lives 3, and asked if we had one more story to tell that would fit within the frame?

To begin with, I wasn’t at all sure that I did. I’d jumped at the chance to write the regeneration story for my Doctor. I had a very strong vision for how I thought his end would come, and story threads I wanted to pay off, so I didn’t want anyone else to do it. Bad enough if they did it “wrong” (insofar as how I see it), but worse if their idea was better…

Certainly, the Holmes Doctor would have an important place in the Forgotten Lives 3 story, not least because of his position as the penultimate incarnation, but as the Cold Warrior, his incarnation would make sense to be the one in the big third act battle with all the fireworks. The more I thought about it, the more pieces slotted into place. I looked at what I’d done before with the character, which tropes of spy fiction I’d employed and which ones I hadn’t. I drew from John Le Carre for the first story: The Other Side. The second one, as the last Holmes Doctor story, I wanted to go bigger and more cosmic, so Ian Fleming informed the themes of Borrowed Time. For my final (to date) story: Who Needs Enemies, I looked to Len Deighton for inspiration. I’ve made no attempt to pastiche the authors’ writing styles, just imbued some of the concerns that they wrote about into the mix.

I don’t think I have any more tales of the Robert Holmes Doctor to tell, but I’ve said that before!

Since Forgotten Lives 3 was published, Doctor Who has returned to television again with the second age of Russell T Davies and the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Doctors. And again, the Morbius Doctors have made a brief appearance. Another artist, Raine Schramski has been working her way through a series of painted portraits of each incarnation. I’ve seen the (already amazing) “rough sketches” that have been published, and enjoying the unveiling of each finished portrait. I’ve a little while to wait until mine takes his turn in the light. So for an idea that started as a bit of fun in a single episode of 1976 Doctor Who, the Morbius Doctors have walked a long road. Forgotten Lives? Forgotten no more, I guess!

At the time of writing, while the print editions are long gone, you can still buy ebook copies of all three volumes from the Obverse Books site and support a good cause while you’re at it. “Chin-chin!”

Did Iris forget her biscuit & end up in the kitchen sink?

Jay has been busy writing short stories and has several being published in new anthologies:

The Perennial Miss Wildthyme

perennial_irisDeath of the Author, by Jay Eales

Right vs Left vs Wrong, by Paul Vayro

Wildthyme and The Wolf, by Graham Tedesco-Blair

Dolores Smith and the Birthday Bear, by Kara Dennison

The Girl Who Went Up In Smoke, by Greg Maughan

Onesies, by Steve Palace

The Opera of Samhain, by Donald McCarthy

A Grove Invisible, by Juliet Kemp

Michael Drake, by Dale Smith

The Midnight Empire, by Julio Angel Ortiz

Doppler Shift, by Ian Potter

Closure, by Paul Castle

Cover Artist: Paul Hanley

Available to pre-order from Obverse Books.

You Left Your Biscuit Behind

biscuits

Photo courtesy of ‘Tyne & Wear Archives & Museums’

Elf Prefix by Graham Wynd

Between Love and Hat by Jay Eales

Black Glass by James Bennett

No Mercy by Kate Hollamby

That’s the Way the Cookie Crumbles by Penny Jones

Feeding the Fish by Carol Borden

Mermaids in Cape Town by Mame Diene

Patron by E.J. Davies

The Price of a Biscuit by Kate Coe

The Princess, The Pekingese and the Ivory Box by R.A. Kennedy

Cover art will be by Michaela Margett

Available in 2016 from Fox Spirit Books.

Kitchen Sink Gothic

kitchensinkgothicDaddy Giggles by Stephen Bacon

1964 by Franklin Marsh

Derek Edge and the Sunspots by Andrew Darlington

Black Sheep by Gary Fry

Jamal Comes Home by Benedict J. Jones

Waiting by Kate Farrell

Lilly Finds a Place to Stay by Charles Black

The Mutant’s Cry by David A. Sutton

The Sanitation Solution by Walter Gascoigne

Up and Out of Here by Mark Patrick Lynch

Late Shift by Adrian Cole

The Great Estate by Shaun Avery

Nine Tenths by Jay Eales

Envelopes by Craig Herbertson

Tunnel Vision by Tim Major

Life is Prescious by M. J. Wesolowski

Canvey Island Baby by David Turnbull

Cover Artwork by Joe Young

Out now! Available through Amazon.

 

Here, there and everywhere in May

May turned into a very busy month for us with lots of events with some kind of creative connection…

First off was a visit to The Lakes with friends from The Speculators writing group. No writing was done, but we did lots of sight-seeing of writing-related places.

Writers in the rain!

Writers in the rain – at Wordsworth’s favourite writing spot.

Applied Comics Network Event - information, educational & factual comics.

Applied Comics Network Event – information, educational & factual comics.

Next up was a trip down to London for the inaugural Applied Comics Network Event, which I had been invited to speak at about the sessions I do at work about using comics to communicate research. I’ve blogged this in detail over on my work blog.

We both did readings at the latest Fox Bites event, which is a Leicester event for writers to read 5 minutes extracts of their work in a relaxed atmosphere in a local cafe. Organised by the lovely Adele (aka Aunty Fox) of Fox Spirit Books.

Jay entertains the audience with a sci-fi tale.

Jay entertains the audience with a sci-fi tale.

Jay read his short story Spare Change, which originally appeared in Murky Depths. While I read Once in a Blue Moon, a piece of flash fiction I wrote for the event.

The others writers who read were:

  • Daniel Ribot (author of Vampsov 1938) read his short story A Gentleman’s Agreement.
  • Marianne Whiting read an extract from her Viking novel Sheildmaiden.
  • Carol Leeming read an extract from her choreopoem – The Loneliness of the the Long Distance Diva.
  • Selina talks ancient hearts.

    Selina talks ancient hearts.

    Mayapee Chowdhury read a short story from her collection Embarrassing Siblings, Playground Taunts and other Growing Pains.

  • Leah ‘Ileandra’ Osbourne read an extract from one of her novels.

I went on a rather different creative jaunt during for the second Bank Holiday weekend, as I went on a sewing retreat. It was good fun and I learnt lots of new crafting techniques…

#sewingretreat winding up. Had a great time & learnt lots :-)

Fruits of my sewing labours.

May is being rounded-off with Jay busy working on a short story and a Speculators critiquing session this weekend.

Oh, and April brought the news that To End All Wars has been nominated for TWO Eisner Awards! Very exciting to have written for an Eisner nominated book!

Pimping our prose stories

I was rather busy in 2014 promoting ‘To End All Wars‘, so I forgot to give our prose stories the shameless self-promotion they deserve…

My most recent short story appeared in ‘Iris Wildthyme of Mars

Iris Wildthyme of MarsThe Red Planet.

Everyone agrees about the colour, at least. The rest is up for grabs.

Is Mars a dead and sterile desert, or teeming with life?

Are Martians red, green or blue? Nubile and lithe, or monstrously tentacular?

These Marses are of course incompatible, contradictory, and in many cases quite impossible. And Iris Wildthyme has visited them all.

My story Death on the Euphrates sees Iris and her companion Panda splashing down into a canal of Mars and becoming embroiled in several mysteries.

The Alchemy Press Book of Pulp Heroes 3

While Jay wrote The Revenant for The Alchemy Press Book of Pulp Heroes 3.

Twelve stories of supermen, cops, Mysterymen, samurai and private eyes from the likes of Kim Newman, Rod Rees, Tony Richards and more … thrilling tales of pure Pulp Adventure.

 

Jay’s previous prose publications:

Burning With Optimism's FlamesMightier than the Sword, Faction Paradox: A Romance in Twelve Parts, Obverse Books, 2011

Imaginary Kingdom, Alt-Zombie, Hersham Horror, 2012

Nine TenthsTerror Scribes, Doghorn Publishing, 2012

Faction Paradox: Burning With Optimism’s Flames, Editor, Obverse Books, August 2012

The Five Faces of FearBorn Among Briars, More Tales of the City, Obverse Books, 2013

The Five Faces of Fear (The Periodic Adventures of Señor 105 #8), Manleigh Books, November 2013

Zeitgeist, Terror Tales Volume 2, #1, Rainfall Books, June 2014

Selina’s previous prose publications:

Green Eyed and GrimThe Periodic Adventure of Seňor 105: Green Eyed and Grim (Novella), Manleigh Books (2013)

The Great and PowerfulThe Alchemy Press Book of Ancient Wonders, Alchemy Press (2012)

Light Fingers, Terror Scribes, Doghorn Publishing (2012)

Ancient Wonders 002Lone and Level Sands, Alt-Zombie, Hersham Horror (2012)

The League Against Santa Claus

The League Against Santa Claus

by Selina Lock

The blue-hooded figure stepped up to the podium. His long, grey beard looked in need of a good trim, but his beady eyes took in the motley crowd before him. He banged his staff on the wooden floor and the murmur of voices slowly faded.

“I call to order this meeting of The League Against Santa Claus” he said in a voice that filled the village hall and made the straggly tinsel and foil stars sway slightly.

“First order of business is a battle plan to destroy that lowly upstart Santa Claus!”

This produced a ragged cheer from the crowd, with a crashing of chains from the hairy, cloven-hoofed beast in the far corner. The beast’s long red tongue lolled out of his mouth in a sinister smile.

The bearded man banged his staff again and started detailing his battle plan. After about forty five minutes of this, the Yule Goat spat out the fake Christmas tree branch he’d been idly gnawing and bleated for attention.

“I was promised biscuits and akvavit. Bring on the nibbles!” the goat demanded. The hooded man glared at him. The goat stared back, chewing the cud calmly before speaking.

“You know we’ll just follow your lead Odin. No need to bore us all to death with the details.”

“Boiled adzuki beans done yet?” two men in identical ogre masks and straw capes chimed up in unison.

Odin banged his staff on the floor again and stalked off stage.

“Fine, the nibbles are at the back” he said.

The Yule Goat ambled after him.

“Who invited the two namahage?” he asked Odin, gesturing with one hoof towards the men in the ogre masks. “They’re New Year demons. We don’t want them muscling in on our territory.”

Odin sighed. “We’re a bit short on troops this year and they did make a compelling argument that Santa had nicked their naughty kids shtick.”

They all got stuck into the stollen, Christmas themed beer and akvavit. The party was very convivial until Krampas attempted to dance on one of the tables. They decided it was time to take him home before he hurt someone.

Odin surveyed his troops. The drunken beast, the masked twins and the abnormally large goat. He wished Thor hadn’t been too busy in Hollywood to attend this year. He banged his staff again and the other members of the League rolled their eyes at him.

“Remember, we meet at the North Pole at noon on Christmas Eve. Anyone who needs a lift can hitch a ride with the wild hunt.”

On Christmas Eve they gathered on a snow-packed peak overlooking Santa’s grotto. Odin was sporting a shiny new blue robe, had combed his beard for the occasion and was sitting astride his eight-legged horse Sleipnir. Krampus had polished his chains and the Yule Goat was sporting one of those red Scandinavian style scarves that were all the rage. The namahage were jigging about and grumbling about the cold. Behind them, the ghostly horses of the wild hunt stamped their hooves, while their riders waved their spears and bows.

Odin’s ravens Huginn and Muninn could be seen flying above the grotto, scouting out the territory. They returned a few minutes later to make their report. Odin trotted forward and addressed his troops.

“It appears Santa got wind of our assault and has recruited a couple of security yeti, but we mustn’t let that stop us. This is our year! Ready your weapons.”

The riders, demons and beasts shifted around and tensed their muscles. Odin turned Sleipnir to face the grotto and raised his staff.

“Charge!”

The strange crew thundered down the bank towards Santa’s workshop. An answering roar was heard, as lumbering yeti appeared, reindeer bolted out of the stables and the jolly man in the red suit rallied his own troops.

As the two sides got nearer, Odin released the first snowball, which hit Santa square in the chest.

“First point to us” Odin shouted in triumph.

Then the Yule Goat locked horns with Rudolph, the wild hunt went up against the other reindeer and Krampus and the namahage twins targeted the yeti. The snowball fight began in earnest.

The noise from the fight caused Mrs Claus and head Elf Freda to come running out of the house, where they’d been having a well-earned hot chocolate break. They skidded to a halt, as a snowball landed at their feet. Mrs Claus shook her head.

“Every year, every damn year this happens. He promised it wouldn’t interfere with loading the sleigh, but oh no, they have to have their fun. Men!”

She threw her hands up in the air and Freda patted her on the shoulder, not easy when you are an elf of restricted stature.

“Good job we organised extra elf shifts, just in case.”

“You’re a life-saver, or a Christmas saver in this case Freda” Mrs Claus replied. “Come on then, let’s get that sleigh loaded.”

They turned back towards the workshop, with whoops and yells ringing in their ears.

“But if he thinks he’s sleeping in our bed tonight he’s very much mistaken” Mrs Claus muttered as she went.

Naughty or Nice?

Naughty or Nice?

by Jay Eales

“You remember the rules, right?”

“Jawohl, mein Kapitan.” Carol gave a Hitler salute, with a mocking grin.

Rather than the desired effect of lightening the mood, Kristian’s expression grew grave.

“Indulge me.” He looked at Carol seriously, as though he was about to tell her the cat had been run over. Carol sighed, and played the game, rattling through the rules by rote, just as Kristian had relayed them to her: “No smoking. No drinking. No swearing. I thought this was supposed to be fun?”

“It better be. It cost me a packet to ship that crate all the way from Lapland.”

“I’d have been happy with a week at Centerparcs.”

“I can take you to Centerparcs any time of year! Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

“Under lock and key in the drinks cabinet until after Twelfth Night, apparently…”

“If you think my dad will stop smoking those evil Christmas Cuban cigars of his just because of some rules you’ve made up, you don’t know him as well as you should.”

“I didn’t make the rules. Rare Exports Incorporated do. I had to sign a contract before they’d even agree to let me buy one.”

“In… blood?”

“Might as well have been. I felt they’d charged me a pound of flesh. But, it’ll be worth it. This is gonna be the best Christmas ever, babes. Trust me. It’s all for you. Your dad will understand. Tell him we’re not smoking in the house any more, or something.”

“Careful, tiger! Isn’t lying on that list of rules somewhere too? Can I take a peek at this mysterious crate, at least?”

“Don’t be so impatient! Christmas Eve is just a few hours away. You’ll have to wait.” Kristian seemed to have cheered up a little at least. He’d regained some of his playfulness. It was a relief, as Carol thought he’d had it all knocked out of him with all the extra hours at work. A fat wallet was all well and good, but not if it meant losing the cheeky man-child she’d fallen for. Hadn’t she worked just as hard to keep up with the Joneses; live the dream; a top-flight career and a life?

“Can I at least have a teensy bottle of Grolsch tonight? It’s not Christmas yet. You haven’t even let me trim the tree. You and your family traditions. Look at the poor thing sitting there in the corner all naked and green. By the time you let me decorate it, the needles will have started to drop off. Come on, big boy! Just a beer and a bauble… I won’t tell.”

“You can’t.”

“But…”

“He’ll know.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Kristian!” Carol was growing just a little tired of her boyfriend’s inflexibility. What good was Christmas if you couldn’t let your hair down? Eat too much, drink too much and go a little wild. Let the credit card take the strain and repent at leisure when the New Year was safely begun. Kristian took a sharp intake of breath, “Careful… Do you want to be naughty or nice?”

“Oh, I like this game! Naughty, every time! It’s a fair cop, guv! Put the bracelets on. I can’t promise I’ll come quietly, though.” Carol pantomimed the universal invitation to put invisible handcuffs on her wrists, a prelude to a better end to the evening than its beginning, she hoped. Hope that was instantly dashed when she saw the horrified look on Kristian’s face.

“He’ll put you on his list.”

“He can check it as many times as he bloody well likes. The day I’ve had, I’m having a drink. Join me or don’t. And I’m opening the gingerbread packet. Don’t even try stopping me.”

Kristian knew he was on a hiding to nothing. When Carol set her mind to it like this, nothing short of coshing her over the head and dragging her from the house would change how this would turn out. He considered it.

The funny thing was, Carol did get her way and decorated the tree that night. Not in a modern style, though it could be described as ‘traditional’. When both sets of parents arrived for Christmas dinner, punctual as ever, Carol’s father stubbing out his filthy cheroot in the snow outside the house on the instructions of She Who Must Be Obeyed, they could see the tree glistening through the window first of all.

When they finally gained entry, it was the splintered crate they saw next, quite empty. Their calls to Carol and Kristian went unanswered. Confused that they might have missed a phone message cancelling dinner, they wandered about the house, finally arriving in the lounge to finally witness the tree in all its glory. Not a scrap of tinsel on the tree this year. Slippery red ropes strung about the tree, and those were definitely not baubles. Ho. Ho. Ho.

 

This story is a homage to the film Rare Exports & is not intended to infringe copyright.

Terror Tales, Volume 3 Number 2 – Spring 2014

TerrorTales2_cover

Containing the first publication of one of my earliest stories: Zeitgeist. Something of a period piece now, Zeitgeist focuses on the historic day in tiny market town Allerdale where they received their very first cash machine… and the workmen disturb more than just the town luddites in the process. Featuring Uncle Henry, the Fast Food Exorcist.

“I were talking to me mam about… y’know… the Ess Pee Oh Oh Kay. And she reckoned as how we should have a word with me Uncle Henry. Him as runs the Chippy? Apparently, he’s the seventh son of a seventh son, or summat. Does a bit of exorcising on the side, like. So I asked him to come over.” She finished her little speech with a flourish, “He said he’ll be in later, when he’s had a chance to get the taters in.”

The full line-up is:

Terror Tales Spring 2014, Vol. 3 No. 2, Issue 10 (RAIN130)

Edited by John B Ford & Steve Lines

Walpurgis Homecoming by Franklyn Searight

Zeitgeist by Jay Eales

The Lost Guitar of Jordan Wells by Sue Phillips

The Change Will Do You Good by Mark Walker

The Manor of Madness by Lee Clark Zumpe

What Dark World by Glynn Barrass

Available from Rainfall Records & Books for £4.50 including P&P.