Series one of Untreed Reads’ best-selling steampunk series, Space: 1889 & Beyond, reaches its exciting conclusion this month with the release of Dark Side of Luna. The epic finale brings together Space: 1889 creator Frank Chadwick and relative newcomer JT Wilson (author of well-received novel Cemetery Drive).

Here we talk with JT about his interest in steampunk…

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What interested you in Space: 1889 & Beyond in the first place?

Initially, the same thing that attracted Frank to developing the series in the first place: I saw the title and it made me smile. Immediately it creates an image in your head of what the series is going to read like, as all good titles should. I’m afraid I’m a sucker for a good title and for puns, hence the amount of Robert Rankin and Jasper Fforde I’ve picked up.

A title, though, will only get you so far: the intrigue of attempting a steampunk novel was one of the things that motivated me to pick up the project. Steampunk, for me, combines two things that I’m interested in: now-antiquated modes of etiquette and chivalry is one part; a quirkily retro take on futurism is the other. I have an odd relationship with futurism: for example, as a musician I like playing synthesizers but I think that the Moog or the VCS3 (which is basically a tuned oscilloscope) are more aesthetically attractive than the latest Roland or Yamaha. In attempting to envision the modern day from the point of view of the Victorians, steampunk has a similar, slightly ramshackle, take on technology, with the added benefit of hindsight. Faced with the choice of the beautiful flying ship of Space: 1889 & Beyond or the sterile rockets of NASA (in a hypothetical situation where they both work perfectly of course), who wouldn’t choose the former? Having said this, I’m not sure how an e-book would work in a steampunk universe. Perhaps one would wind a scroll around a pocket watch or a handmirror, akin to a pianola.

What difficulties did you face in converting a Role-playing Game scenario into a fully-fledged prose novella?

Converting an RPG into a prose novel is the equivalent, I think, of playing all the parts that would normally be covered in an RPG and rolling less dice. What was trickier, for me, was walking around someone else’s universe. In my previous writing, I’ve been largely sending my characters around slightly distorted versions of the world we live in (or at least, the world I live in, your mileage may vary) and/or universes I’ve made up. In S:1889 the ‘rules’- of physics, politics, whatever- already existed. Not being from a military, naval or scientific background, learning and operating within the rules of this universe served as more of (what my day job would call) ‘a development opportunity’ for me than the fact that the universe was created as an RPG. That’s why I was glad to have the co-writing skills of Frank Chadwick, who is hugely knowledgeable about the combat forces and, obviously, about the Space:1889 universe.

Who are your favourite characters?

I’m always a sucker for feisty, impulsive female characters so it goes without saying that Annabelle Somerset was a delight to write. Of the characters indigenous to ‘The Dark Side of Luna’, I’m fond of Howard Phillips, a scientist on Luna, and Ross McKittrick, who’s Nathanial’s warden at the start of the book. Although they’re not necessarily ‘a character’, I like both the Drobates and the Saltators, both new to the series here.

Your three favourite moments in Dark Side of Luna are…?

Difficult to simultaneously answer this question and avoid spoiling the book. In terms as vague as possible: Annabelle’s early discussion with Bedford; the entry by our heroes into the City of Light and Science; the late-night conversation between Nathanial and a long-lost ally.

What’s coming next from you?

I’m currently working on two novels, the former of which is the follow-up to my 2010 novel Cemetery Drive and which should, hopefully, be out this year. I’m working on a few things here and there in addition, although nothing concrete enough to confirm here. Plus I imagine that I’ll be booed out of community centres across the West Midlands in my capacity as pro-wrestling manager and diabolical evangelical preacher Reverend Lex.

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And now an exclusive extract from Dark Side of Luna…

Further down the River of Life, Folkard had identified a clue. Scattered on the bank of the river were a number of shavings from branches, together with uncoiled rope which lay discarded near a bush. A nearby small stand of tall, slender mushroom-like trees had been decreased in number by four, judging from the stumps and sign of their trunks dragged across the loose shale. The leathery branches and fronds had clearly been trimmed from them and by the shore the group found the charred remains of some papers apparently torn from a notebook. Those which could still be deciphered showed a few sketches against which were some hurried notes.

“This writing is scarcely legible,” said Folkard.

“Yet certainly it is Grant’s,” said Stone, contemplating the burnt documents. “During our work together he would often pause and scribble notes like this on the blackboard. These particular notes do not illuminate his destination, but his intentions are clear. He meant to build himself a raft, which I can only presume he succeeded in doing. He’s a resourceful fellow, it has to be said. This at least serves as confirmation that our navigation thus far is accurate. He must have attempted to cover his tracks by burning his papers.”

“Why burn them?” Folkard asked. “Why not just throw them in the river?”

“Possibly the party from which he desired to hide his intentions was down-river,” Stone said. “Perhaps there are more remains which might serve as a clue as to where he was heading.”

As he scouted around the group to search for further clues, Folkard halted abruptly. His early sensation of being watched now was backed by solid evidence: footprints differing from those of the group. They seemed fairly fresh and pointed unusually outwards from each other, which, it could be presumed, gave the walker a bent gait, clearly unlike that of anyone in the party. Someone else had been here, and recently.

“Bad things are coming,” muttered Seaman Henry in a pessimistic tone.

“I would have to agree, Captain,” said Stone, looking from Henry to Folkard. “Whoever these others are, Grant clearly considered them dangerous.”

Folkard nodded. “Still, there is little choice, men. Sooner or later we will have to confront these men―if they are men―and I would rather we meet them on our terms than theirs.”

“Can we really entertain even the possibility that they are men, Captain?” Stone asked. “I mean―God―those footprints!”

“Highly possible, Professor Stone. Who knows what sort of torturous exercises the Russkies subject their soldiers to? In any case, whether man or alien, they mean us no good or they would have shown themselves—if not to us, to the research station personnel. So everyone draw your weapons and when we move we will spread out, so if someone does fall upon us, some at least will be free of the melee and able to give supporting fire.”

“Permission to speak, sir?” asked Henry, somewhat surprisingly. When Folkard gave his consent, Henry continued. “Sir, permission to guard Miss Somerset if she stays behind? Likely to be conflict in other group. Can’t have a lady abducted.”

“Ah, and you’re suggesting that she may need someone to fight for her, Henry?”

Henry merely nodded in reply.

“Very chivalrous, Mister Henry,” said Miss Somerset.

“Yes, I do rather agree with you, Henry,” said Folkard. “Excellent thinking. I suspect the danger will be greatest for the forward party so I shall lead. McKittrick, Burroughs, you shall accompany me. Professor Stone, you as well, if you please.”

“Perhaps I might also be of assistance, Captain Folkard?” offered Phillips. “I am not yet too old for adventuring and I may have some insight that could be useful. That is, if you are amenable to the input of a civilian?”

“Very well and thank you. Miss Somerset, Seaman Henry, Doctor Staples, I would like you in the centre of the party. Chief Charles, you take Gibbs and O’Hara and form the rearguard.  You’re the senior petty officer here, so if something happens to me, you’re in command, and no backtalk from any of these civilians, no matter how many doctorates they hold. Understood?”

“Aye-aye, sir.”

“K’chuk,” Folkard continued, “I would be obliged if you and your men went in the centre, with Miss Somerset, to guard her and Doctor Staples in the event of an attack.”

The Selenites looked among themselves with an air of reluctance. They were communicating telepathically, as ever; it did seem, however, that K’chuk was displaying more of a desire for combat than his men. “Selenites fight if needed,” K’chuk eventually replied.

“Very well. Now let’s move out, but proceed with extreme caution.”

They walked for several hours along the river. It could not be said to be silent, as the sound of the water was always present, contained, amplified, and distorted by the narrow covered canyon through which it ran, now murmuring, now gurgling, now roaring as it dropped over a low falls or broke into foamy waves among the rocks of a rapids. But the river’s voice was so omnipresent that after a while it seemed almost to dwindle into half-heard background noise.

Something about the skeleton, the strange footprints, the burnt remnants of cryptic notes, and this seemingly-endless river combined to silence their tongues as well. None of them spoke until Stone raised his hand and cried out.

“Hallo! What’s that up ahead?”

Folkard held his hand up and the column halted. He studied the small, dark feature on the ground Stone had seen, perhaps a quarter of a mile on, studied it with eyes used to picking out the single flickering white light of a cutter from a background of a thousand stars.

“Bodies,” he said at last. “Two of them, I’d say, although we’ll have to get closer to be certain. Charles, you stay here with the rearguard and the main body. Find yourself some cover and stay put, no matter what happens, until I give you the all-clear and wave you forward. Clear?”

“Aye aye, Sir.”

“Good man. I’ll take the advanced party on ahead and see what’s what. Everyone on your toes.” Folkard cocked the hammer on his Enfield to emphasize the point.

As the captain and the four others of the advanced party drew near their objective, it became all too apparent whose bodies had been piled in such a way, and the sight—to say nothing of the stench—were enough that men with weaker constitutions would have run screaming for the surface.

“I knew those men. Captain, say it isn’t so!” McKittrick appealed to his captain, who was knelt by the bodies.

“I’m afraid it very much is so, gentlemen,” Folkard said grimly. “Ensign Challoner and Able Seaman Clements, late of Sovereign.”

“Surely this is impossible. Those men were taken months ago!” gasped Stone. “Yet these corpses are fresh. Why, they’re barely three hours dead!”

“But why keep a man alive for seven months, only to then kill him?” mused the young and nervous-looking Burroughs.

Folkard rose to his feet only to see the fresh horror that had materialised in a circle around them, seeming to rise from the sandy ground.

Ambushed!

“This is why,” Folkard murmured, raising his revolver, “you kill them to lay a trap.” He fired the weapon, and one of the creatures spun backwards, blood and grey fluid spurting from its head. Before he could get off a second shot they were on him and knocked the revolver from his hand.

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It’s been almost a month since Nathanial and Annabelle rejoined HMAS Sovereign. For Annabelle it’s been a journey of uncertainty; she had expected a happy reunion with George Bedford, first officer of the flagship of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, but instead he’s been distant. She fears it has something to do with her newfound disability. For Nathanial, however, the journey has been uneventful since he’s spent the entire time locked in the brig under the cloud of treason.

Things change abruptly when Sovereign is ordered to return to Luna, and retrieve Doctor Cyrus Grant, who has been sending increasingly confusing heliograph messages back to Earth. There is an air of uncertainty in Otterbein Base, and concern over Grant’s wellbeing. Once again he’s gone missing, turning his back on the Selenites and the British research team stationed there – leaving with creatures who are neither human nor Selenite.

A search and rescue mission is soon underway, taking our heroes deeper inside Luna than ever before. There they will discover the mysteries of the Drobates, and their amazing City of Light and Science. Annabelle is concerned that her uncle will no longer accept her, and Bedford is concerned that being on Luna once again will have adverse effects on his captain, but these things are the least of their worries. Grant is close to uncovering the answers to an age-old secret, but he is not the only one who seeks this knowledge. A creature stalks the dark underworld of Luna, a creature once human, and quite insane.

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Dark Side of Luna is available from all good e-book stockist, including direct from Untreed Reads.

Space: 1889 & Beyond will return later in the year, when the series editor, Andy Frankham-Allen, and property owner, Frank Chadwick, join forces for an explosive series two première… Conspiracy of Silence!

Dark Side of Luna © 2012 JT Wilson & Frank Chadwick and Untreed Reads Publishing.

Space: 1889 & Beyond © & ™ 1988/2012 Frank Chadwick.

All Rights Reserved.

Frank is a guest over at The Traveller’s Steampunk Blog, where he talks with the Traveller in-depth about Space: 1889. Here is an excerpt;

Traveller: How many series of Space: 1889 & Beyond are planned?

Frank: Several. Sorry I can’t be more specific but much depends on how well these first several series are received. I can tell you that the first series has been well enough received that the second series is already being written, and it will be expanded in word count to about half again the length of series one. There are certainly more series after that in planning, but we’ll see.

One of the best things about Space: 1889 & Beyond is the number of really good writers Andy has signed up to pen entries in the series.  If we can keep getting outstanding writers as our authors, I’d be happy for it to go through five or six seasons at least.

Traveller: Is there any place in the Space: 1889 Solar System you are particular proud of?

Frank: Mars, absolutely. Mars is my favourite setting, and I think it shows. The board game which is the prequel to Space: 1889 is Sky Galleons of Mars, and the interplay between Mars and Earth is central to the unique aspects of the Space: 1889 universe. I was particularly happy that the story I was tapped for in the first series of Space: 1889 & Beyond was set on Mars. It not only gave me a chance to revisit my favourite planet from this universe, but also elaborate on a few themes and have a bit of fun with the background. A Prince of Mars is, in many ways, a story of scales falling from European eyes.

Traveller: How does Space: 1889 & Beyond tie in? Is the material in there considered canon for the RPG?

Frank: Yes it is. Some eyebrows have been raised concerning shipboard gravity on HMAS Sovereign, but as the first series hints, there is more to it than meets the eye, and the second series will reveal the secret behind it, which will also answer one of the burning questions about the worlds of Space: 1889 which has been out there since the first publication of the book. So Space: 1889 & Beyond will actually explain part of the canon which was never explained before.

Read the full interview here.

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A Prince of Mars excerpt;

Kak’hamish felt his stomach turn cold at these words. For as long as people remembered, naughty children had been threatened with visitations by the Old Ones, the ghosts of the mighty and terrible architects of the canals who screamed from beyond the grave for vengeance against those who had allowed their work to crumble. But these were grown men speaking as if the Old Ones were real, had substance in this world, and could walk among men. And what did the priest mean by tasted the eyes?

They came to the lowest level of the cargo hold, unevenly lit by swaying lanterns which cast monstrous, creeping shadows across the uneven walls. The wind blew from the open hatchway which led to the loading platform, beyond which loomed the yawning blackness of the night sky. In the open space at the centre of the hold the servant of the priests laboured, pulling the sarcophagi from their wicker protective cases. Something in the way the servant touched the sarcophagi, reluctant with both revulsion and fear, made Kak’hamish shudder.

“Those two,” the head priest commanded, pointing at two of the sarcophagi, “stand them upright. Let the unbelievers confront the Worm face to face, eye to eye.”

“Shistomo will join us soon enough,” Jed-An protested. “Will you at least wait for your superior’s orders?”

“No! If he orders the sacrifice, the Old Ones will love him, not me. If he forbids it, the Old Ones, in their slumbers, will wonder why I did not act when I could, will ask me this when we meet, and what will I say to them? That I waited? That I took careful counsel of a worldly prince? Stay and watch this miracle or, if you have no stomach for it, go now.”

Jed-An turned wordlessly and left, followed by four of the judges who Kak’hamish recognised as the four bodyguards from the caravan. The sixth black-clad figure, the stooped and shuffling translator, lingered, and his eyes glowed with anticipation.

“I . . . I would like to see the miracle, Revered One,” he said.

“Watch the prisoners while we prepare the Old Ones,” the head priest snapped and then summoned the other priests with a gesture.

The servant backed hastily away from the sarcophagi as the four priests moved to them, two priests for each sarcophagus. They carefully broke the clay seals to either side and then ran their knives down the seams between the lid and body of the containers. About half-way down, Kak’hamish heard a sigh of air, realised they were cutting a wax seal on the containers, and within moments he caught a scent of rotting corruption and immediately vomited, as did the translator behind him. Nathanial, still lying senseless on the deck where the priests had dropped him, now stirred, rolled over on his side, and vomited as well.

Kak’hamish had crawled through sewers, through the rotting garbage and excrement of ten thousand people, had almost passed out and died from the stench and lack of oxygen.  He had seen and smelled a hundred bodies thrown over a city wall and left to rot in the sunlight, had hidden under them for days while they swelled taught like inflated bladders, then split and spilled their vile fluids over him. He had experienced all that and even worse, but none of it approached this smell.

Kak’hamish took a step back away from the sarcophagus, but stopped when he felt the point of a knife in the small of his back.

“You’d leave your British friend to his fate? Shame on you!” the translator hissed in his ear, and pricked him again with the point of his blade. The head priest turned, saw the situation, and nodded.

“You watch the English,” the priest said to his own servant, who crossed the hold to stand over Nathanial’s prone figure, staying as far away from the sarcophagi as he could.

The priests carefully lifted the lids of the sarcophagi and moved them to the side, and Kak’hamish found himself staring straight at the empty eye sockets of a blackened and rotting corpse, the flesh dripping and in places sliding off the bones. The odour became almost overpowering, but it was more than just rotting flesh, and as he stared he realised the eye sockets were not completely empty, that something moved inside.

“The vessel is consumed,” the head priest said.

“The vessel is consumed,” the others chanted in unison.

“The Old One hungers,” he said.

“The Old One hungers.”

“Come forth and live,” the priest said, and held his hands up, as if in supplication, in front of the corpse’s face.

“Come forth and live.”

“Come forth and feed!”

“Come forth and feed!”

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Barely making it to Mars in their crippled aether cutter, Nathanial and Annabelle crash in the desolate Martian wastes. A disfigured Martian with a mysterious past helps them survive in the desert, but when they are rescued by a passing caravan their troubles may only have started.

Raids by steppe nomads and flying skrill riders are the most obvious dangers, but simmering resentment against Earth humans, and intricate plots to overthrow the British colony, lurk everywhere just beneath the surface.

Apparent friends become enemies, unexpected allies appear from unlikely sources, and the shadowy past of their Martian guardian collides with the sinister plans of the murderous head of the dreaded Martian Cult of the Worm…

A Prince of Mars is now available from the following e-stores;

The Untreed Reads Store (http://bit.ly/sGWqDu)

Amazon.com (Amazon Canada, Amazon Germany, Amazon France, Amazon UK)

Scribd

DriveThruFiction.com

OmniLit.com

Barnes and Noble

Apple iBookstore (32 countries)

Lightning Source (a distributor, primarily North America)

… and will soon be available in every other e-book stockists out there.

A Prince of Mars © 2012 Frank Chadwick and Untreed Reads Publishing.

Space: 1889 & Beyond © & ™ 1988/2012 Frank Chadwick.

All Rights Reserved.

Now for something really cool! I was recently interviewed by the Comic Guru himself, Kristian Barry, for his ongoing YouTube vlog. For those of you who do not know me beyond my writing, this will be a  nice little insight in to the person I am – the pure cheek of me! Check the interview out below, and please feel free to share it around.

I’m sure most of you have heard of the ‘It Gets Better Project’, but those of you who haven’t, here’s the lowdown.

“The It Gets Better Project was created to show young LGBT people the levels of happiness, potential, and positivity their lives will reach – if they can just get through their teen years. The It Gets Better Project wants to remind teenagers in the LGBT community that they are not alone — and it WILL get better.

Within the ‘portal to all things Space: 1889′ you will find blurbs and extracts (never released beyond the books) for every book in the Space: 1889 & Beyond series, plus character biographies, detailed information on the inner planets, interviews with the creative team behind the series, background information on the Space: 1889 property, exclusive artwork… and much much more coming soon!

Pop by The Space: 1889 Portal and don’t forget to sign the guestbook.

And, as a thank you, here’s a very rough version of the prologue from my forthcoming Shattered Earth novel, Cast From the Heavens.

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Days had passed since Hefina ferch Gwynfor had left Coeden, but she was determined to succeed. She gripped the harness that was tightened to her adar cluk’gwin, and surveyed the land far below.  Finally the trees had given way to a moor of grass and rock, empty of people, as was to be expected. The thraeeg gok was said to live in these lands, although to the best of her knowledge, no one had laid eyes on such a dragon. Hefina would not have been surprised if it was a rumour started by the Lords of Tir themselves, a deterrent for the criminals sent to Coeden and the other small villages of Claunoboble. The moors were close to the seas that separated Claunoboble and Deegonoboble, the two land masses that made up the world of Avunar, and it would serve the Lords well to keep the criminals as far from the seas as possible. Fearful of the wrath of the thraeeg gok, they would remain in the villages, no longer a concern of the Lords. And a continued strain on the land of Claunoboble.

Cover Mock-Up

Hefina sighed, all her sadness erupting in one spurt of air. Her own people had been driven to the trees a long time ago, the only way to remain safe from the madness that reigned on the land below. That was why her village was now called Coeden, the village of trees. The land below, filled to bursting with criminals expelled from Deegonoboble, no longer had a name, at least as far as Hefina was concerned. It did not deserve one.

Her reverie was disturbed by an unusual sight miles below. She spoke to her adar cluk’gwin.

“See that?”

The adar cluk titled its head and its red eyes blinked.

“Take me to it.”

Immediately the great bird darted to the moor below. Hefina let out a whoop of joy as the wind blasted her hair back. This was real freedom. Away from the land.

The adar cluk’gwin landed gently, its giant talons gripping the grass. Hefina patted its coarse feathers, and dismounted. “Keep watch,” she said. She did not believe in the rumour, but she was no fool. If the thraeeg gok really did live on the moor then she would have to take to the air quickly. As she approached the object that had caught her attention, Hefina idly wondered if her adar cluk would be a quicker flyer than the thraeeg gok.

The object looked like a tree, only this one seemed to be made partly of metal and glass.  It was thicker than any tree she had seen before, at least a hundred spans in diameter, and fifty in length.  She walked the length of it, careful not to step to close. The grass around the fallen tree was scorched, burned by a great fire. Perhaps the thraeeg gok had brought it here? Hefina knew the thraeeg gok was supposed to breath fire.

She stopped.

At the top the tree was hollow. A piece of metal, almost gold in colour, hung from the top of the tree. It was the same size as the hole, as if it was some kind of door.

Hefina stepped closer, her curiosity overriding her sense. She pulled back quickly, glanced around, then stepped ever closer.

Yes, she had seen true.

Covered in metal shaped to fit its body, was a man.

Hefina had never seen the like. But she did know her beibal.

She looked up to the skies, and what existed beyond.

This tree had come from the Heavens, and the person inside was not a man at all. He was a god.

L. Joseph Shosty

From Beaumont, Texas, where he lives with his wife and son, Shosty is the author of nearly fifty short stories, as well as numerous essays, articles, book reviews, and poems.  A novel, Sign of the Hanged Man, was serialised on the web in 2000 and 2001, and his story collection, Hoodwinks on a Crumbling Fence, was published in 2000.  His second novel, a mainstream work titled The Return of Baldheaded Johnson, has recently been completed.

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Interview

AFA: What interested you in Space: 1889 & Beyond in the first place?

LJS: It’s hard to explain without a little history first.  I came to storytelling mostly through roleplaying games.  I played my first game of Red Box D&D in second grade.  By third grade I was running a campaign.  That same year I became a voracious reader, and in doing so I discovered comic books.  By early fourth grade I received TSR’s Marvel Super Heroes RPG, which had very basic rules, including a clear and detailed reasoning behind each power level.  With this system I got a crash course in creating characters from the ground up, as it gave me hard numbers upon which to hang strengths and weaknesses, a mathematically quantifiable way of comparing them.  Using a rough numerical concept of my own devising, I began creating my own superheroes and writing stories in my head as a way of falling asleep at night.

By junior high, I knew I wanted to write for a living.  My earliest dream was to do a tie-in for TSR, especially their Forgotten Realms line.  Jeff Grubb, Douglas Niles, and R.A. Salvatore were likes gods to me as a teen.  I wanted to be like them and write a fantasy trilogy of my own.  That dream ended when Wizards of the Coast bought the company, but I’ve always harbored a desire to do a tie-in for some franchise.

When I was approached to do the Space: 1889 book, I jumped at it.  I’d seen a copy of the RPG when I was a teenager.  I hadn’t quite understood it at the time, but I’d thought the idea was intriguing.  Years passed, and I independently cultivated a love of Victorian fiction, specifically the scientific romances.  Seeing the gaming system again, I better understood what Frank Chadwick had done, and was thrilled.  It’s a nod to the aforementioned romances, and, believe it or not, it finally gave me an answer to a question I’d been asking for about two years:  what the hell is steampunk?  I seriously didn’t know, nor did I know that I’d been reading its predecessor in Victorian fiction.  Now, I’m in love with both the social and literary movements, and it certainly suits my sensibilities better than writing about Dragonborn the Oathsworn mowing down orcs by the busload.

AFA: What difficulties did you face in converting a Role-playing Game scenario into a fully-fledged prose novella?

LJS: None.  Stocking a dungeon with monsters and NPCs is all about character, plot, and pacing.  I wrote Abattoir in the Aether like I write adventure modules for one of my campaigns.  The setting comes first, then come the maps, and then I stock each room with NPCs, combat scenarios, hidden rooms, treasure, etc.  The only difference here was that I had to use pre-generated characters, if you will, in Nathanial and Annabelle.  They were my PCs, and I had to run them through the adventure rather than have players do it for me.  There was nothing at all difficult in adapting the scenario in prose form.  The problem was in “playing” the two characters correctly.  That was tough, but I’ll save that story for another day.

AFA: Who are you favourite characters?

LJS: Dr. Matthew Holmes is merely a sketch of my actual physician, Dr. Mike Holmes.  I enjoy his company so much, it’s almost exciting to get sick so I have an opportunity to talk with him.  A visit to his office is usually something like, “Well, chief, you have tuberculosis.  We’ll want to keep an eye on that.  So, did I ever tell you about the time I treated a geologist friend of mine, and he said…?”  And the next thing I know, I’m hearing about The Burgess Shale Formation, and I’m actually interested in hearing about it.  Wonderful guy, and I’m afraid I didn’t really have the space to do him justice.

I also love Jasperse, the earnest ex-soldier who came to Peregrine Station to do the sweeping up, only to end up in a role as a security man.  I modeled him partially in the rough-and-tumble mold of Danny and Peachy from The Man Who Would Be King and added something of my father-in-law in for good measure.  Like Kipling’s characters, he’s an adventurer himself, only on a smaller scale.  He’s been everywhere and done everything.  Going out into the aether is the next logical step in his long life.  No job is too small or too dirty for him, yet he has dignity and pride in what he does.  He’s honest enough, and he speaks plainly, but he’s got a dangerous curiosity to him that leads him into some trouble.

AFA: Your three favourite moments in Abattoir in the Aether are…?

LJS: There’s an old saying among writers:  murder your darlings.  And it’s true that the best things you write often end up getting cut because they simply don’t fit.  In this case, I had enough material to possibly fill a trilogy of books but only had time and space (and a contract) to write one.  In the end it came down to deciding what parts of the story wanted to be told and what parts needed to be told.

Of my favorite things cut from the novel, the first is Nathanial discovering a chess board and moving a piece.  When he comes back later, he sees that someone has moved a piece on the opposing side. The game progresses through several chapters.  Being that his personal guard, Jasperse, is an avid chess fan, he believes it’s him, but later, Nathaniel makes a rather chilling discovery:  the phantom that is haunting Peregrine Station has been moving the pieces, which was such a clever parallel that I almost left it in.

Basically anything about Nathaniel and his mates Dr. Holmes, Fullbright, Provost, and Jasperse that was cut makes the list, especially the tale Holmes spins of an imaginary grouse hunt where he makes each of them characters.  It was such a sweet ode to friendship that I’d hoped to share with my close friends, but it never saw any eyes but mine.

Many parts with Annabelle faced the axe, much to my despair, her visit to the greenhouses chief among them, which I removed when I ceased having Uriah Provost as a potential suitor.

I hope this answer doesn’t confuse readers or make anyone believe that I don’t enjoy what I’ve written.  Quite the contrary, but I felt an honest answer was in order.

AFA: What’s coming next from you?

LJS: Ha!  Get comfy, and I’ll tell you.  First up, I pitch a television pilot to a production company in January.  Big excitement there, but I’m afraid I can’t provide too much on information on that just yet.

I’m also trying to get my comic book company up and running.  I’m partnering with several friends of mine to write scripts and brainstorm characters, design a website, and learn the ropes of digital comics.  A superhero RPG is in the works to support it.

As we speak I’m in edits on Ataraxia and Aponia, a mainstream (non-genre) novel I wrote earlier this year (2011) about a science fiction writer and Epicurean writing his first major work.  If it finds an agent by the end of 2012, I’ll be happy.  Speaking of novels, I’m also kicking around the possibility of working directly with fellow Space: 1889 author, K. G. McAbee, on a mystery novel.  I love her and consider her my mentor, but we’ve never written anything together.  That should be a heckuva journey, as our personalities and approaches to the craft are about as different as night and day.

As for what’s on its way, I’m slated to appear in a number of magazines and anthologies, which you can track on my website, http://themadaccount.blogspot.com.  Untreed Reads will also be publishing one of my short stories, “One of Us, Old Boy”.  I’m especially excited about that, as I consider it to be one of the best stories I’ve ever written.  Busy, busy, busy!

∑

Exciting stuff indeed! So, to a brand new excerpt from Abattoir in the Aether…

The cutters were small ships, smaller even than Esmeralda, equipped for crews of five, though as many as ten or even twenty could be housed comfortably for short journeys. Such flyers were not long-range vessels, which left Nathanial wondering where they were headed. Unless he missed his guess, they were deep in the aether, with no planets for days or even weeks. A larger ship, perhaps, like Sovereign, could be patrolling the aether, yet, as he’d noted earlier, these men were not Royal Navy. And what was this foolish business about restricted space?

A storeroom was cleared and turned into a makeshift prison cell, with two armed guards posted outside. Nathanial sat on the floor, scratching an itch on the back of his head. Annabelle paced the tiny bit of floor available to her. She was dressed much the same as she had been when Nathanial had last seen her, but he knew from experience that she had her derringer and knife secreted in places beneath her skirts that would be improper for a man to search. The gunshot he had heard earlier had come from one of the men sent to fetch her. She had leapt on his back suddenly, and the man had squeezed off a shot before the others, the big Irishman included, had wrestled her to the ground.

Now she looked more like a caged animal. Gone was the generosity and industry he had witnessed in their journey from Mercury. Truly, the old Annabelle had returned, and, he had to confess, much of his old vigour was returning as well. The veil of doom was lifting from his shoulders just as the twin stones of anxiety and boredom were crashing down on her, as they often did when she had no external incidences to engage her.

“Where do you think they’re taking us?” she asked for the eighth time.

“We won’t know until we get there,” he said.

Annabelle clearly did not like this response. “What if they decide to kill us?”

“They could have done that already. They have a specific destination in mind, and I, for one, am curious to see what it may be.”

“Even under arrest?”

Nathanial shrugged. Unless they had fallen into the hands of the Germans or the Russians, he was certain he could talk his way out of their predicament. His importance to the interplanetary efforts would be currency enough to buy his and Annabelle’s freedom, regardless of what phantom law they might have inadvertently broken. If they had broken any at all. Briefly, he wondered if perhaps groups independent of sovereign nations had gotten their hands on liftwood supplies or found a way to build an aether propeller, but he quickly discarded the line of thought. The notion of it made him want to laugh. Aether pirates! Sounded like some fanciful bit of dribble for the penny dreadfuls.

His musings were interrupted by a sudden shaking of the hull. At first it was merely a vibration, but before he could think two thoughts in a row the vibration had become a rumble. Annabelle lost her footing, catching herself on the storeroom wall. Shouts from the crew rang out. Nathanial could hear them scrambling to keep the cutter on course.

“What’s going on?” Annabelle shouted above the din.

“Aether vortex!” he replied. “A very big one, from the feel of it!”

In his time on HMAS Sovereign he had experienced just such an anomaly, where the aether streams of Earth and Venus had met and reacted violently. The resultant “storm” could have destroyed Sovereign had it not been for his improvements to the design of the aether propeller governor. He recalled being afraid then, even though the chaps under Folkard had been particularly adept at navigating its outer edge. Still, the buffering the ship had received was nothing compared to what he was feeling now. Part of that had to do with the overall size of the ship. Sovereign had carried two cutters roughly the same size as this one in her belly, but that was only a portion of his concern. This vortex was definitely larger, and by turns more violent.

The roaring became a screeching. Annabelle clapped hands over her ears and screamed, though the noise she made was drowned. Visions filled Nathanial’s head of the cutter ripping apart and their bodies floating free with the debris. He closed his eyes and drew his knees to his chest, where he sat with his head covered by his arms. His insides felt gelatinous, sloshing about inside his abdomen.

Abattoir in the Aether (Artwork by David Burson)

Fresh from their adventures on Mercury, Nathanial Stone and his ward, Annabelle Somerset, are limping through the aether in a dilapidated flyer when they unwittingly stumble upon a heliograph station in solar orbit between Earth and Mars.

Now in the sinister clutches of Dr Henry van den Bosch, a hulking nightmare of a man with a penchant for destroying those who cross him, Nathanial must race against time to prevent the station from falling into a massive aether vortex or risk van den Bosch’s wrath.

But unseen forces hold sway on Peregrine Station, and before the two can even settle in, an attempt is made on Nathanial’s life. Annabelle investigates, and in doing so sets off a chain of events that could destroy the station before it ever reaches the vortex.

Abattoir in the Aether is now available from the following e-stores;

The Untreed Reads Store (http://bit.ly/sGWqDu)

Amazon.com (Amazon Canada, Amazon Germany, Amazon France, Amazon UK)

Scribd

DriveThruFiction.com

OmniLit.com

Barnes and Noble

Apple iBookstore (32 countries)

Lightning Source (a distributor, primarily North America)

… and will soon be available in every other e-book stockists out there.

Abattoir in the Aether © 2012 L. Joseph Shosty and Untreed Reads Publishing.

Space: 1889 & Beyond © & ™ 1988/2012 Frank Chadwick.

All Rights Reserved.

William Hartnell (centre) as the Doctor in 'Galaxy Four'

Mid December something quite significant happened in the world of Doctor Who. No, they didn’t hire me to write an epic steampunk reinvention of the Cybermen! Yeah, sorry to be a downer. But they did discover two previously ‘lost’ episodes of the classic series. Part three of Galaxy Four, starring the original Doctor, William Hartnell, and part two of The Underwater Menace, starring the second Doctor, Patrick Troughton. They were lost during the massive clear up of the BBC Archives in the ’70s. Still 106 episodes are missing from Doctor Who during 1964 and 1969, and for a long while hope of ever finding them had also disappeared among the higher echelons of Doctor Who fandom. Now that hope has returned… as witnessed by episode four of Comic Guru TV!

Totally Gratuitous Shot*

Welcome, dear reader, to 2012. It looks to be a pretty amazing year for me, with many projects on the go and quite a few being lined up for later in the year (including one potential project I simply cannot talk about now – but if it works out, trust me, you’ll all love it). I have set many goals for the following year, and one of those is to conquer America! Well, not through some massive invasion, but merely to get my works out there in the American market. I’ve already got all my eBooks out in the States, of course, but I’m an old fashioned guy and I want to be all over the US in print. And, by jove, 2012 WILL see it happen. Yes, I am determined.

For the first few months I will be very busy with writing. I’m currently working on a new novel, Cast from the Heavens, which will be a book in the ‘Scattered Earth’ series, published by Crossroad Press (yes, an American publisher! It begins here). This one will be quite a departure for me, no sense of the macabre, no supernatural, and very little science fiction. It will be a fantasy epic, in the same mould (hopefully!) as Jim Butcher’s Codex Alera series of novels.  As soon as I finish this book, I shall be moving on to my half of Conspiracy of Silence, the series two opener for Space: 1889 & Beyond which I am co-writing with Frank Chadwick. I can’t say a lot about that one, really, since anything I say will only give away the end of series one, and that doesn’t happen until March. Needless to say, it will shake the universe of Space: 1889 & Beyond and the lead characters (Nathanial Stone and Annabelle Somerset) to their very core. And, if that’s not enough, co-currently with these projects, I shall continue to work on Augury, the second book of my Garden series. Oh, and of course, editing the first few stories of Space: 1889 & Beyond series two.

Issue #1 of THE PRIDE

So, I think that’s enough to get 2012 off to a good start. Needless to say, that’s not all I’m working on, or have going on around me, but it’s all I can talk about. Therefore, let me share with you a few other related things instead.

Seeker gets it’s first review for 2012 (well, it was written right at the end of December, but that’s close enough), which you can read HERE.

Space: 1889 & Beyond continues to hold its own at Untreed Reads, remaining in the Top Ten Bestsellers for four months in a row. To see the full list, click THIS.

And now something a little less connected. It’s all over Facebook, but I want to share it here. A short while ago, a few friends of mine released the first fully-fledged LGBT superhero comic, The Pride. The comic book and its creators have been nominated for various Eagle Awards. Please do pop by and support this wonderful comic by voting HERE.

For those of you interested in my person life – tough! No, just kidding.

I spent the Christmas period with my maternal family (and when I say maternal I really mean maternal – there’s so few males on my mother’s side), and the New Year with my paternal family. I’m no fan of Christmas particularly, but I do feel that spending time with those you love is important. Even more so this past year, ever since I lost my father in December 2010. Don’t worry, I’m not going to bore you with the long and complicated story of my clichéd relationship with my father, but it’s one of those moments that you know you’ll never be able to go back and fix. So, being with my family is important now. More than ever.

Real Life Comics = Awesome!

Okay, got a little serious there. Let’s liven this post up, by sharing a few other things. Right now I’m reading Max Ehrlich’s The Edict, as well as a book on British myths and legends (the former is purely for my own fun, the latter is research for the book I’m currently writing). I’m also immersed in the usual DVD marathons; right now it’s Torchwood, Battlestar Galactica and Blake’s 7 (interesting to note, I love science fiction on TV and film, but not a huge fan of sci-fi in print). I am also highly distracted by Real Life Comic. I came across it a few weeks back, only to discover it’s been running for over TEN YEARS! Eek! Still, not to be deterred, I started at the beginning and have read seven years worth of daily comics in three weeks! Check me out. Or is that sad? Dunno. I suggest you all go and check it out HERE and see how long until you become addicted. Greg Dean is a genius! (Although Tony might not agree. Yeah, that’ll make sense when you read the comic.)

So, there you have it. A rather random post to start the year.

See you out there!

*sex sells! If this is popular I may just include a gratuitous pic in every post.  ;)

Big thanks to all my loyal supporters!

To wrap the year up, here’s a rather amusing episode of Comic Guru TV (stay for the end, that’s hysterical!).