My next novel now has a title, a cover and a release date.
This is the blurb:
Five strangers gather to learn about a curse that has plagued their families for a century. It’s a curse that results in impalement, disembowelment, decapitation, and crucifixion. And tonight there’s a chance for those strangers to stop the curse forever. They’re going to learn a decade’s worth of history, discover some terrible secrets, and be faced with a horrific choice as they try to make recompense for the sins of the fathers.
“All four of you could potentially die this evening,” Hadley explained. He spoke without any suggestion of melodrama or exaggeration. His tone was cool, calm, crisp and composed. “We’re all recipients of a curse that’s been burdening our families for more than the past hundred years. Tonight is Friday the thirteenth. The five of us are gathered together under the same roof which means, according to my research, the conditions are perfect for fate to deal with us in the cruellest and most violent ways imaginable.”
What’s the protocol for when you’ve got a dog on a lead and it starts sniffing another dog?
If they were just sniffing noses/mouths or other innocuous areas, this wouldn’t be an issue. But, as I have dogs that immediately sniff at the less salubrious parts of their canine chums, I’m wondering if there is a phrase that I should be using to lessen the embarrassment, or if this is something I should just tolerate.
For example, if I’m walking my dog and I encounter another man walking a dog, Oswald starts to sniff at the other dog’s rear end. I’m not going to say if he’s sniffing ass, taint or ball sack. I don’t look closely enough to make an accurate distinction. I’m just giving you the idea that his head is in that area.
My current fallback is to not make eye contact with the other dog’s owner. Making eye contact would be akin to saying, “Hey! These little chappies seem to be having fun doing that, so why don’t we try it?” Consequently, eye contact is not an option.
Similarly, it’s difficult to make a remark that doesn’t sound like I’m condoning the behaviour or secretly enjoying the voyeurism. A comment such as, “Oh! They’re making friends,” seems like a disturbing understatement given the situation. A comment such as, “Isn’t it lovely weather we’re having?” suggests that I’m oblivious to the fact that my dog’s nose is buried up another dog’s backside. I definitely can’t say, “He’s enjoying that,” without sounding like I should be on a register.
So, if you’ve got any suggestions for how to tactfully respond in these scenarios, please drop them in the comments box below.
Nat Whiston is from Birmingham, England and started writing in her first voluntary job with Magazine Voice 21 as a feature writer and reviewer. When her health took its toll, her writing took a backseat. But now, intent on reinventing herself, she posts stories and reviews on her website. She also started a YouTube channel for her book blog as well.
She has been published in books by Black Ink Publishing, Redcape and D&T Publishing. She published her first short story on Godless – What’s Eating You and recently collaborated with Ash Ericmore on Your Move.
With release day being tomorrow, I though this video might be a timely reminder of what’s coming your way. Please remember, Conversations with Dead Serial Killers is available as a paperback or an eBook.
David Longbottom is young, handsome and filthy rich.
He’s also a psychopath.
Musings of a Sadist is a collection of stories about his fantastical, privileged and bloodied existence and includes a never before published bonus story ‘Hot Shots’.
Take a journey into this spoilt Australian’s mind. He’s been dying to ‘meat’ you.
In Musings of a Sadist, Ryder Kinlay introduces readers to the remarkable character of David Longbottom. Firstly, I need to say that Kinlay writes in such an easy-going fashion it’s like having an Australian friend whisper the story lovingly into your ear. This is a personable narrator telling a story that, in the hands of any other narrator, could likely be unpalatable.
David Longbottom is a flawed human being. Admittedly, he loves his mummy, but everyone and everything else in the world is there only to serve the needs of his sadistic desires. Musings of a Sadist is beautifully written and shows us the world through the eyes of a terrible human being, turning cruelty and ugliness into something genuinely beautiful. If you have a stomach for horrific and an appetite for cruelty, you’ll be in damned good company with David Longbottom and Ryder Kinlay.
I didn’t get round to sharing this link on here when it was first recorded. Col and I had the ‘pleasure’ of discussing The Castle of Otranto with the incredible author Violet Fenn. I’ve used speech marks around the word ‘pleasure’ not because I don’t enjoy chatting with Violet (she’s awesome) but the choice of reading material felt like a cruel and unnecessary punishment.
Just a reminder that Conversations with Dead Serial Killers is currently available for pre-order. The book is going to be released on Valentine’s Day and it tells the story of two brothers connected by a shared passion.
In the novel, this is how we meet the elder of the two brothers: Derek Turner.
“I’m getting a message,” Derek declared. “It’s from someone with the initial J. Does that mean anything to anyone?”
He stood alone on an otherwise empty stage: a dishevelled man with thinning curly hair, wearing a rumpled grey suit and assuming a slouching posture. Yesterday’s five o’clock shadow made his jawline fuzzy. A blinding spotlight bathed him in whiteness, as though he had just been helped down to the stage by the hand of God or the transporter beam from an alien spacecraft. Derek drew a deep breath and refused to let his nervousness show. He had never been nervous on stage before and he wasn’t going to start with such theatrics now.
He intended spending his first half hour on stage at the Swansea Playhouse doing cold readings. Clive’s remote voice was in his ear, whispering occasional words of encouragement and commentary, whilst Derek cajoled the audience with cold readings to get them to accept his abilities as a medium before he started using any of the hot-reading information supplied through his brother.
“The initial J,” Derek repeated. “Does that mean anything to anyone here tonight?”
There was a moment’s hesitation.
There always was.
No one ever wanted to be the first to say they believed: that was just a sign of foolish gullibility. But someone would bite soon enough because the majority of them were in the room wanting to make contact with someone who had died and it was an unwritten law of every Conversations with Dead Friends show that, if the punters didn’t bite early, they’d never get another chance.
“The initial J,” he prompted. He glanced toward the left of the auditorium and said, “I’m sensing it might be someone on this side of the room. Does the initial J mean anything to anyone here? I think it’s someone who passed after a long illness.”
A hesitant hand went up. “My mum died from a long illness,” a weak voice told him. “But the letter J doesn’t mean anything to-”
“I’ve got the letter J and a long illness,” a voice to his right declared triumphantly. Derek turned to them, thinking that this sounded like the winning call from someone playing a game of ‘Dead Relative Bingo’.