Not only is it Will’s 400th deathday today, it’s also (probably) his 452nd birthday, so here’s a little excerpt from Played!, my novel of amateur dramatics centred on A Midsummer Night’s Dream, with Tristan being a tad cranky on being woken up in the morning by a knock on the door:

Tristan hurled back the blankets (Nanna Geary hadn’t agreed with new-fangled duvets), marched to the window and flung it open to shout down at the street below. “Whoreson, beetle-headed, flap-ear’d knave!”

Con’s face stared up at him, his brow creased in a frown. “What did you just call me?”

Tristan gulped. His wooing, it appeared, was not getting off to an auspicious start.

You can read a longer excerpt from Played! in my post on the Simply Shakespeare Blog Hop.

And don’t forget to check out all the other snippets on the Rainbow Snippets Facebook Group.

All the world’s a stage…but real-life lessons are hidden in the heart

Though Tristan must join his family’s New York firm at summer’s end—no more farting around on stage, as his father so bluntly puts it—he can’t resist when Shamwell’s local amateur dramatics society begs him to take a role in A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

The bonus: giving private acting lessons to a local handyman who’s been curiously resistant to Tristan’s advances. Not only is Con delicious, there’s fifty pounds riding on Tristan getting him in his bed.

A late-diagnosed dyslexic, Con’s never dared to act, convinced he’d never be able to learn his lines. But with Tristan’s help, he takes the chance. Trouble is, the last time Con fell for a guy, he ended up getting his heart broken. And with Tristan due to leave the country soon, Con is determined not to start anything that’s bound to finish badly.

Just as Tristan thinks he’s finally won Con’s heart—and given his own in return—disaster strikes. And the curtain may have fallen forever on their chance for happiness.

Warning: contains a surfeit of Bottoms and asses, together with enough mangled quotations to have the Bard of Avon gyrating in his grave.

 Amazon | ARe | Samhain

Today may be the 400th anniversary of William Shakespeare’s death – but it’s also (widely regarded as) his 452nd birthday.

So to celebrate, I’m taking part in the Simply Shakespeare Blog Hop

It’s impossible to overestimate the influence this one man’s work has had on English language, literature and culture.  Not only has he given us a whole phrasebook of common sayings, his plays are still relevant – and open to reinterpretation for the needs of a modern audience – today.

This is all the more remarkable considering how the English language – and how it it spoken – has changed since Shakespeare’s time, leaving some of his cleverest (and dirtiest) puns to fall sadly flat to the modern ear – see:  http://www.vox.com/2015/4/23/8479871/shakespeare-dirty-jokes

Some things never change, though:

Titus Andronicus: Act 4, Scene 2

CHIRON
Thou hast undone our mother.
AARON
Villain, I have done thy mother.

Yep. It’s a “your mom” joke. From the fifteenth century.

And that, I think, is one of the secrets of Shakespeare’s lasting appeal: he didn’t just create sweeping dramas, with lyrical language showcasing a wider vocabulary than any other writer ever; he also knew just how much we all, secretly, love a low-down dirty joke.

I’ll leave you with an excerpt from Played!, my rather heavily Shakespeare-influenced novel of amateur dramatics. In this scene Tristan (a professional actor) is helping the object of his affections, Con, to rehearse a scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, in which Con is to be Bottom:

“I thought we’d go back to the scenes with Titania. How’s your singing?”

Con looked supremely uncomfortable. “Dunno. Never really done any.”

“Excellent. Just remember, this is supposed to sound bad.” Tristan took a moment to berate himself for his epic failure of nerve, then another to breathe in the character of Nick Bottom. A puffed-up idiot who utterly failed to live up to his own expectations.

No, that wouldn’t be too far a stretch of his abilities right now. Tristan began singing in a nasal monotone, clapping his hands to the beat.

“The ousel cock so black of hue,

With orange-tawny bill,

The throstle with his note so true,

The wren with little quill,”

He broke off for a moment, a thought striking. “You could go for the laughs with cock and little quill, but remember you’ll be in full ass’s regalia then, so any subtle expressions are likely to be lost.” Tristan frowned. He never had had that conversation with Heather over Bottom’s costume. “Do we know yet what you’re going to have in the way of headgear? We should find out sooner rather than later.”

“Yeah. It’s just gonna be this sort of hood thing—Hev reckoned it’d be funnier. And, well, cheaper, than a full ass’s head.”

Tristan nodded. “No, that’s good—we could work with either, but it does make a difference. How about a tail?”

Con blinked. “Dunno. Is that in the play? I thought it was just his head that got changed.”

“Oh, you mustn’t underestimate the efficacy of a tail. One can do all sorts of things with a tail.” Remembering his goal, Tristan smiled flirtatiously and added a little of a leer for good measure.

Con, predictably, flushed.

“Ah, well. Onwards and tupwards, as the saying goes.” Con was frowning, but Tristan ignored it. “You, dear boy, are about to be seduced by a fairy. Are you ready?”

“Uh…”

“I’ll be the fairy. Come, sit thee down upon this flowery bed.” Tristan patted the sofa impatiently until Con sat, perching upon the edge like a very large, very nervous bird preparing to take flight. Beaming, Tristan continued with both words and actions. “While I thy amiable cheeks do coy, and stick musk-roses in thy sleek smooth head, and kiss thy fair large ears, my gentle joy.”

Con swallowed audibly. “Uh, that was my real ear you just kissed.”

Amazon | ARe | Samhain

Autism fact: To a person whose sight is Hyposensitive (under-sensitive), objects appear quite dark, or lose some of their features. Their central vision may be blurred but peripheral vision quite sharp – or a central object is magnified but things on the periphery are blurred.

I’m delighted to be once again taking part in RJ Scott’s autism awareness blog hop, which runs throughout the month of April.

As I’m sure you’re all well aware, the title of this post comes from Sherlock Holmes, speaking to the long-suffering Doctor Watson in “A Scandal in Bohemia”, The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. (Feel free to imagine it in Benedict Cumberbatch’s sepulchral tones.)

A fuller version reads as follows:

“You see, but you do not observe. The distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps which lead up from the hall to this room.”

“Frequently.”

“How often?”

“Well, some hundreds of times.”

“Then how many are there?”

“How many? I don’t know.”

“Quite so! You have not observed. And yet you have seen. That is just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen and observed.”

How often do we see, but not observe, in everyday life? I was recently asked about the accessibility of venue where my local writers’ group meets by a wheelchair user. To my shame, I had only a very imperfect recollection of the number of steps involved—and I wasn’t alone; two other members of the group, who have been visiting this place regularly for even more years than I have, had, if anything, even less of an idea than I did—one of them even thinking they recalled a stairlift being there. Perhaps there was one there at some time; there certainly isn’t now, as we found when we visited with, this time, our eyes open to observe.

So how can we learn to observe, as well as see?

Most of us have probably played Kim’s game, at one time or another: for those unfamiliar with the Jewel Game from Rudyard Kipling’s Kim, it involves trying to memorise a number of objects placed on a tray and seen for only one minute. Repeated attempts can help you train your memory, and it’s often played with young children.

For Kim, this was serious business, and part of his training as a spy. The game is apparently still used as a training method for snipers by the US Marine Corps in Quantico (although possibly not with rubber duckies).

Why do we need to train our memory in this way, though? Why don’t we just naturally remember everything we see? It’s probably because there’s an inevitable trade-off between focussing on the detail, and seeing the big picture.

Speaking in evolutionary terms, it’s likely to be less advantageous for us to notice that there are fourteen trees of various heights in front of us, six birds flying up in alarm, a growling sound becoming louder all the time, an animal coming our way at around 30 miles an hour, etc, than it is to register immediately that there’s a sabre-toothed tiger about to eat us and we need to take evasive action now.

And noticing all the details at once can be incredibly overwhelming. Which is the reality of daily life for some people with autism. For a few examples, check out this recent blog post by the mother of an autistic child: http://metro.co.uk/2016/04/02/violet-fenn-8-things-that-are-just-too-much-for-those-with-sensory-issues-5777826/

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Make sure you check out RJ’s blog to see the complete Five Senses Blog Tour schedule.

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And as we’re on a detective theme, I’m offering a prize of an e-copy of EACH of my currently published Plumber’s Mate Mysteries (Pressure Head, Relief Valve and Heat Trap) to one lucky commenter on this post. I’ll make the draw after the end of the month. Good luck!

The Plumber’s Mate Mystery Series

Featuring slightly-psychic plumber Tom Paretski and his private investigator partner Phil Morrison – click on the covers for more information:

This little snippet from Brass Rags comes a little later than last week’s:

Close proximity to Robert had only served to amplify his roguish charms in Algy’s eyes, and Algy had been struck with an attack of wholly unwonted—and heartily unwanted—nerves. Whilst the man had proved himself an able student in the matter of pressing shirts, there had been absolutely no progress towards the matter closest to Algy’s heart.

(In metaphorical terms, of course. In purely physical terms it was a good eighteen inches away. Lessening to ten, obviously, when aroused.)

Don’t forget to check out the rainbow snippets Facebook group for more little excerpts from a whole host of talented authors here.

In early twentieth century England, a good valet can be damned hard to come by—at least, when one’s requirements are quite so specific as Lord Algernon Huffingham’s. Algy likes a man with a firm hand. Preferably work-calloused, and applied with vigour to Algy’s aristocratic buttocks. He’s beginning to despair of ever finding a man who can give him what he needs and still respect him in the morning.

Disgraced footman Robert likes a roll in the hay as much as the next man. Preferably with the next man. But he’s more accustomed to following orders than issuing them—and some of his lordship’s requirements are a bit more extreme than he’s used to! Robert may be easy on the eye and flexible in his morals, but will he be able to rise to Algy’s challenge?

 Amazon | JMS Books

In early twentieth century England, a good valet can be damned hard to come by—at least, when one’s requirements are quite so specific as Lord Algernon Huffingham’s. Algy likes a man with a firm hand. Preferably work-calloused, and applied with vigour to Algy’s aristocratic buttocks. He’s beginning to despair of ever finding a man who can give him what he needs and still respect him in the morning.

Disgraced footman Robert likes a roll in the hay as much as the next man. Preferably with the next man. But he’s more accustomed to following orders than issuing them—and some of his lordship’s requirements are a bit more extreme than he’s used to! Robert may be easy on the eye and flexible in his morals, but will he be able to rise to Algy’s challenge?

This story first appeared in the Men of the Manor anthology, and is now available as a standalone ebook for the first time from JMS Books

Amazon | JMS Books | ARe

And for the first week it’ll be on sale at 20% off from JMS Books only. Get it while it’s cheap!

Unless you’ve already bought the anthology. In which case, you probably shouldn’t bother.

My historical short story, Brass Rags, which appeared in Rob Rosen’s Men of the Manor anthology, will be coming out as a standalone e-book for the first time on Sunday 3rd April and is now available to pre-order. It’s a very tongue-in-cheek tale of a young gentleman with, ahem, unusual tastes looking for love—or at any rate, lust—in low places. 

If you’ve got the anthology, this edition of the story is almost exactly the same as the one you have already.

Brass Rags

In early twentieth century England, a good valet can be damned hard to come by—at least, when one’s requirements are quite so specific as Lord Algernon Huffingham’s. Algy likes a man with a firm hand. Preferably work-calloused, and applied with vigour to Algy’s aristocratic buttocks. He’s beginning to despair of ever finding a man who can give him what he needs and still respect him in the morning.

Disgraced footman Robert likes a roll in the hay as much as the next man. Preferably with the next man. But he’s more accustomed to following orders than issuing them—and some of his lordship’s requirements are a bit more extreme than he’s used to! Robert may be easy on the eye and flexible in his morals, but will he be able to rise to Algy’s challenge?

This story first appeared in the Men of the Manor anthology, and is due out as a standalone ebook for the first time from JMS Books 3rd April 2016

Available to pre-order: Amazon | JMS Books

This week, I was going to post a snippet from my actual Easter Bunny flashfic, snappily titled “A Little Bit Like the Tooth Fairy (Only Not Quite)” but, uh, it’s a bit violent and might not be suitable for sensitive souls. Or anyone who likes bunnies. Plus, since the demise of online magazine Reflections Edge there’s nowhere I can direct you to read the rest of it (should anyone actually want to).

So instead, here’s a snippet from another bunny-themed short story of mine, Hairy, Horny and Over Here:

Note: no bunnies are harmed in the course of this story. I can’t say the same for the human characters, however!

“Be vewwy, vewwy quiet, we’re hunting—” Ethan broke off as a shotgun, held in a pair of unusually beefy hands, swung toward him and took up position about 3 inches from his left nostril. “Joke, okay?” He swallowed, and tried to ignore the chill tap-dancing down his spine. “Sense of humour failure, much?”

His heavy black brows casting his dark eyes in even darker shadow, Logan very noticeably didn’t move the gun away. “Joking like that is what gets guys killed, out in the bush.”

Don’t forget to check out the rainbow snippets Facebook group for more little excerpts from a whole host of talented authors here.

Photographer Ethan is pretty sure there’s no such thing as a jackalope—every bunny he’s ever seen has been a cute little furry thing, not a dangerous, horned beastie. But somehow he finds himself dragged into Parkhurst Forest to look for them by big, tough hunter Logan, who drives Ethan mad with continual comments about his “daintiness.”

When the jackalopes lure Logan away, however, Ethan is left to the mercies of an escaped convict from the local prison. Rescue comes from an unexpected source—and Ethan discovers the true reason for Logan’s personal remarks!

Available in ebook

In fact, I’m currently off in Birmingham getting my geek on at MCM ComicCon. But due to the magic of wibbley-wobbley timey-wimey stuff (aka WP’s scheduled posting), you still get a snippet! Today’s one is from It’s All Geek to Me, my novella set in a comic book store (that may or may not bear a strong resemblance to the Forbidden Planet store in London):

I opened my mouth to speak to the guy behind the counter—and then he turned round to face me, and I totally forgot what I’d been about to say. He was gorgeous. He had, like, cheekbones you could cut your teeth on, a strong jaw, and really cool hair. So dark it was almost black, flat on the sides of his head and gelled up on top into a sort of ridge. Mohawk? Fauxhawk? Pigeon hawk? Some kind of bird, anyway. The stubble on his chin wasn’t so much designer as I’m way too hip to shave, and his deep-set brown eyes pierced right through my scratchy wool sweater to the suddenly pounding heart beneath.

Maybe X-ray vision was one of the perks of working in the superheroes’ spiritual home? I wondered if Hot Hawk could fly, too. Or had super strength, or super stamina, or . . .

“You all right there?” he asked, in smooth, gently mocking tones.

Don’t forget to check out the rainbow snippets Facebook group for more little excerpts from a whole host of talented authors here.