Sunday, 28 February 2010

Me 1 Life 0

Despite its best efforts, life has failed to stop me doing what I enjoy. First up it through me a couple of nasty jobs which meant working some long hours, caused the cancellation of some well deserved holidays and got me pretty peeved off.

Then, sensing this just wasn't tough enough it decided to throw me a curveball dosed in flu, which knocked me off my feet (but not off of work) for a couple of weeks. My day routinely beginning with me feeling rough in bed, too ill to work and ending at 5pm with me feeling rough in bed, too ill to work. Luckily I had the chance to be ill at home during the weekends, just well enough to drag myself into the office during the weeks between.

Life can be pretty evil at times and yet mercy is only a channel surf away. When I saw some of the pretty horrific events that other people or other nations have had to suffer I couldn't help but feel ever so slightly selfish in taking for granted just what I do have.

A few weeks on, work is still evil but it won't bother me. The flu is abating and I'm drowning in novel notes. Now five chapters in, with another inserted after a re-read I'm uploading the novel to the wiki as I speak! Soon be Easter...

Sunday, 10 January 2010

Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic Fanfilm

Found this earlier today and it is brilliant!

I never got to play the full game as I was halfway through it when my last PC died. I've got Windows 7 on my new one and I can't get it to work without crashing on that even with the XP compatibility on.

Anyways I'd always heard the story was a good one and I hoped I could find some detail on it. I never for one minute thought I'd find this beauty!

It is basically a cinematic movie made using the KOTOR graphics and some really clever editing to show different camera angles and isn't just a bloke playing the game.

It is a cracking project and I urge anyone who is unfortunate enough to have stumbled across my blog to check it out here

Wednesday, 6 January 2010

Random Quote of the Day

From a conversation between Edward Lindell and Samuel Gideon on the subject of capital punishment...

"Gentlemen," continued Lindell with a slyness in his manner, "we must allow the Chief Justice some respite for we can only imagine that it must be tiring to play God." Lindell looked to the two other men who had so far remained silent in the exchange. Lindell chose not to heed or simply decided to ignore the look of warning from them, "I hear that in his final moments the boy pissed his pants."
"You should not believe everything that you read Edward. I for one expected you to know better than that."
The cold harsh voice had a rasp of gravelly warning and Lindell faced the man opposite and nodded in acknowledgement, "I am surprised you chose not to be there Samuel, I hear that you have announced yourself to be the champion of the people." He grinned with sarcasm, "Oh no that was something else I read, therefore it is also false."
Chief Justice Archibald Rimmer had taken the opportunity to draw on his pipe, the warm tobacco taste giving him some small comfort from the exchange of words. He placed the object to rest and carefully laid his cards before casting Samuel Gideon a questioning gaze, "You do not believe a thief should be punished? A man should obey the law, starving or not."
Samuel Gideon steepled his fingers before speaking, "Would you Chief Justice? Would I? Would any of us?"

Wednesday, 4 November 2009


The job has been a right royal pain in the backside for the last couple of weeks where it has been a case of if it can go wrong it bloody well will.

Anyway this hasn't deterred from the writing and with another chapter pretty much complete I think it is time for a further research trip to the Royal Armouries Collection in Leeds to really nail down how the various pistols and rifles were operated. So if anyone else is going you'll know doubt see me hanging around the 18th C weapons for a few hours.

Monday, 26 October 2009

Staffs PC Rest in Pieces

My PC gave up the ghost and is no more. Typing, typing and more typing finally killed it.

For a long time games haven't been an option. Think it could have just about run something like Jedi Knight which came out donkeys years ago.

And tho' I mourn my old PC time will pass and as I lay your dusty, crumpled aluminium form out to rest one final time I will shed a little tear, for my memories will flood back of me, you and MS Word. Of all the sites we saw together on the web and do you remember that time we got drunk and sent the wrong emails to the wrong person?

Anyway, rest easy my friend.

Staffs PC is Dead! His new one is born!

Its a cracker. It boots up quick it has Windows 7 it works, its nice it has Word and there are a multitude of new memories to make, new websites to view, new games to play and new novels to write.

Right let me just clear these cobwebs from my blog, I'm gonna write a few lines...

Saturday, 26 September 2009

Road Trip

Been looking at trips to London. Hopefully it'll be a chance to seek out the sights and smells of older part of the city, parts that will allow the creative juices to flow once again.

Before I go next month I'll need to make a list of the areas which are still 17th 18th C in appearance. Bet the wife can't wait!

Other than that I think Hampton Court Palace and the Cabinet War Rooms will be on top of the agenda.

Can't Sleep

Been writing most of the evening - head full of ideas - pen can't keep up. Gonna take a break listen to some music to relax. It'll all make sense tomorrow....

Friday, 18 September 2009

A True Story - Part Two

Many months passed and the day began to loom upon which the man would leave his desk to begin his work as a fireman. His co-workers had never really believed it would happen and their reaction was one of total admiration.

"Yes he's leaving to become a fireman."

"Really! Why?"

The first co-worker smiled at the seconds surprise it was the same shock that he himself had felt many months before. "Because its what he wants to do," he said smiling as just for a moment he experienced that minute glimmer of surety within him.

"That must be nice," said the second co-worker, "you know, to do something that you really like. I mean I don't mind this job but you know to do something because you really want to do it."

"Well, what would you like to do?" asked the first co-worker to the second who shook their head unsure of how to answer.

For a moment a silence befell the group until a third person who had been listening to the conversation spoke up, seizing the moment to share their dreams by simply adding, "I'd like to be an author."

The stunned silence was shattered by a snigger and the dream died...

It seems in this cruel world some dreams are more real than others.

So is it a dream? Of course it is.
Is it dead? Of course it isn't.

What did all this mean? I'm not sure I know. I spend 8 hours a day staring at a PC and get paid for it. Do I enjoy it in the best possible sense? No. Yet at home I will choose to do the same and yet this time I am satisfied. I do not plough on through writer's block and research problems, frustrated and annoyed in the vain hope that one day I will finish my story to a fanfare of happiness and satisfaction. If I did I would not wish to write anymore. I enjoy the journey of writing itself and surely it is the enjoyment of this journey rather than the end which should bring me such pleasures. And that is how I know I want to write. And write I shall!

Wednesday, 16 September 2009

A True Story - Part One

"I've decided to leave my job and become a fireman," the man said suddenly.

"Really?" asked his bemused co-worker, for he knew that being a fireman would be completely different to the current desk job.


The co-worker thought for a moment, pensively considering whether the next question was appropriate. Eventually, curiosity overcame him and he spoke again, "Is it more money?"

"No," replied the first man, "Actually it is a bit less."

Now this is curious, thought the co-worker, why would someone leave a job that is secure and pays reasonably well to take on a lesser paid role that has unsociable hours.

"It will be a long time until I leave," continued the first man, "I need to undertake training and pass medicals and even then I might not get in."

The co-worker shook his head, "I just don't get it," he moaned with an air of despair, "why would you leave this job and take a pay cut to do that?"

The first man smiled, his eyes bright and alive, "I want to, thats why..."

Job satisfaction is an amazing thing. It cannot be measured in any conceivable way. It is not earned, it is as unique to every individual as every individual is unique to it. I cannot imagine going to an interview and asking "How much will this job satisfy me?" Rather than "How much will I get paid?"

And yet this thing, this unquantifiable thing means everything, for if I feel unsatisfied, then there is something missing from life and if that is the case can I be happy?

That is where my writing comes in. My ramblings and pretend authorings bring me little more than a personal fulfillment of happiness and satisfaction. But what more do I really need?

Now I'm thinking too hard. Time for a beer, a bet and some food in preparation for the footie. I will continue my musings another time.

Saturday, 12 September 2009

Meet Nathaniel Cross

I wanted to write something that summed up the vision of Nathaniel Cross. Whilst he isn't necessarily a good man, he is the main character of the novel living life on the edge and surviving against the odds. He can have no mercy as he knows it is mercy that gets you killed.

It isn't what I thought I'd write as I started but it came out and though it isn't directly from the novel I thought I'd put it up here.

The shadowed form loomed menacingly above him as a bolt of lightning stitched the midnight sky, the sudden flash of light revealing little more than a silhouette. Its head was covered by a wide brimmed hat, angled low over the face. The nose and jaw were concealed behind the high collar of a fully buttoned long dark coat, the hem of which ended below the knees. The hands were buried inside a pair of dark black gloves and held a pistol threateningly towards him, its barrel glinting in the moonlight. Silently, the shape moved upon him as though it were an apparition of death itself and as it leveled the barrel of the pistol, a gloved finger began to tighten slowly on the trigger. Only the eyes were visible and these offered no compassion as a sudden flare from the pan and a crack from the weapon split the air with a brutal finality. And as life faded from him he could see only the savage eyes burning back, beholding their moment of revenge through the grey smoke which danced heavenward from the barrel of the spent pistol as high above them both the rolling boom of thunder echoed warlike across the heavens.