Tag Archives: Gwydion’s Dawn

Lust, Mushrooms and the Quest for Immortality

These would seem to be the primary inspirations underpinning the activities of the occult-obsessed protagonist of Gwydion’s Dawn, hence the original choice of an image of a psychedelicised fly agaric to grace the novella’s cover. However, given that much of the tale is set in and around Glastonbury, and that it takes its title from the name of the wannabe Crowley in crushed velvet, and one-time acid-rock guitarist Gwydion Turner, this new artwork, featuring part of the ruins of Glastonbury Abbey given an early Black Sabbathesque makeover, seems particularly fitting. That said, I must admit to missing the sinister fly that sat atop the mushroom’s cap.

The new cover artwork should be visible on Amazon in the next day or two, although anyone who downloads the Kindle ebook will find that the cover is already live.

Wry Out West in Paperback

Anthology: Wry Out West, is now available in paperback from Amazon. To preview and purchase a copy, simply click on the image below. For those of you who prefer ebooks, it is also available in Kindle format. If you live in the US rather than the UK, you can order by clicking here.

 

Anthology: Wry Out West

Previously published as standalone pieces in my West Country Tales series, this anthology gathers together five twisted tales of the uncanny that venture beyond the mere ‘funny peculiar’, into the realms of black comedy and satire. From the acid-fried occult oddity of Gwydion’s Dawn, to the bizarre rites of a seventeenth-century cunning man in The Cleft Owl; the psychological horror of 3:05 am, to the vengeful fury of a woman of more than 300 years of age in Old Crotchet, nothing will unsettle the reader more than the playful malignancy of the guide in Agnes of Grimstone Peverell. It would seem that in this much-loved and familiar region of rural England, it is not difficult to unwittingly unleash unseen forces which render it both hostile, and dangerous (and in writing this I am not referring to the effects of imbibing excessive quantities of scrumpy, although that can, of course, have the self-same effect).  

The ‘horror’ that you will encounter within is of the understated English variety; it is often implied and psychological, rather than being of the type favoured by the exponents of the ‘slasher’ genre. There is also – with the exception of The Cleft Owl – as much humour as there is terror.  

Whereas these tales are unconstrained by the bounds of any single genre, amongst their number you will find plenty to engage your attention should you possess a taste for mysteries, the paranormal, ghost stories, the occult, psychological horror and historical fiction, as well as, of course, satire.

To view a sample, or to purchase, please click on the image above. Free to Kindle Unlimited subscribers.

Anthology: Wry Out West

All being well, an anthology of my tales entitled ‘Wry Out West’ should be published and available for purchase by the end of next week – Friday 28th April. All that remains to be done is for me to tweak the cover artwork a little, and to finish formatting the text. Unlike the novelettes and novellas that I have thus far published in Kindle ebook format, this collection will also be available as a paperback. 

It will contain the following five tales: 

·         Old Crotchet

·         Gwydion’s Dawn

·         3:05 am

·         Agnes of Grimstone Peverell

·         The Cleft Owl 

‘The Rude Woman of Cerne’ is omitted from this collection merely on grounds of length, and will eventually become available in hard copy as part of a future anthology, but that may be a year to eighteen months away, owing to my next priority being the completion of a novel that I have been working on this past two years. It will likely be bundled with the forthcoming tales: ‘Upon Barden Moor’ (currently scheduled for publication in October) and ‘With These Hands’, with the latter being intended for a pre-Christmas release this year. Whereas the last of these tales will unfold on Dartmoor, ‘Upon Barden Moor’ is set in the Yorkshire Dales, marking a geographical departure from the West Country.  

I will post a cover preview for the anthology here early next week. The Kindle version will be priced at £2.99, but the price of the paperback has yet to be set. Once I am fully apprised of the printing costs, I will update readers here.

 On Rewriting: the case of ‘Gwydion’s Dawn’

There are few authors who do not extol the virtues of rewriting your manuscript, usually recommending that you should do so several times over, but how much is enough, and how should you approach it? For a lucky handful of souls, the words may spring ready formed like Athena from the head of Zeus, but I have not encountered anyone for whom this is the norm. The occasional sentence or paragraph may present itself in such a fashion, but not, surely, anything longer.

One piece of advice frequently given, and followed, is that a writer should hammer out a rough draft before going back and tearing the whole thing to pieces, restructuring its plot, characters and prose, and then going back and repeating the process. Others, such as myself, prefer to adopt a more organic approach to composition, revising as they go along, constantly tweaking and moulding to ensure that the tale emerges in a pleasing shape and style, to which so drastic an act of violence need not be necessary. It may well be the case that ideas relating to its enhancement later suggest themselves, but as I tend to plan my pieces in considerable depth before writing the first line, drastic revision is seldom necessary.

Those who write for a publisher have deadlines to meet, but for those of us who are able to dictate our own writing timetable, we possess the luxury of being able to impose or revoke them at will. Personally, I do find self-imposed deadlines useful, as they help to keep me on track and stop me from drifting too far from the daily discipline of writing. Although I can take as long as I wish, once I have come up with a story I am generally impatient to get it typed, knocked into shape and made available for all to read. That said, I do not allow deadlines to prompt me into releasing anything before I am fully satisfied that it has taken its final form, or more accurately, I should say that this will be the case from hereon, for there has been one instance in which I released a novella where I was not entirely happy with its ending. This, however, has now since been remedied and ‘Gwydion’s Dawn’ has been republished, but why did I initially release it in less than its fully realised state?

 To answer this question, it is necessary to return to the matter of deadlines. As a rule, I tend to be constantly generating ideas, and at any given time will have a number of projects under development. Thus, at present for example, I am nearing completion of a novella – ‘The Rude Woman of Cerne’ – am a third of the way through a novelette (although it may yet morph into a novella) entitled ‘The Cleft Owl’, and half way through writing the novel ‘Pendrummel: Gwen Gwinnel’s Return.’ In addition, there are half a dozen or so embryonic plots floating around for further novelettes/novellas, and three novels. Having a timetabled plan with projected completion dates and release schedules thus comes in useful, ensuring that at any one time I prioritise a particular work. Problems only really arise if this schedule is interrupted by the intrusion of something unexpected, as was the case this past July when I awoke from a vivid nightmare and immediately scrawled down five pages of notes that became ‘3:05 am’. This story was the closest that I have ever come to experiencing an Athena springing from the head of Zeus moment. So striking was the effect of this dream, that I felt impelled to drop writing ‘Gwydion’s Dawn’ until ‘3:05 am’ was completed and published. This, naturally, threw me off track. So, why should this be a problem? As my deadlines are self-imposed rather than external, why would I wish to stick to such a deadline?

I stuck to my initial declared deadline for one straightforward reason: I had, rather blithely and naively, declared on my website, blog and Amazon author page, as well as in the supplementary matter to ‘Old Crotchet’, that ‘Gwydion’s Dawn’ would be released before the end of July 2016. As I had announced this, I felt that I had to stick to the deadline, and thus the novella came to be uploaded on 31 July with an ending which was a little rushed and compressed, that made for a less satisfying read than the preceding portions of the story. This, however, was a state of affairs that I could not let stand, so I returned to the manuscript late last month and fleshed out that which I had seen in my mind’s eye, but was left obscured from the reader in its initial abridged form. It now possesses the ending that it should have done all along.

What have I learned from this experience of self-imposed deadlines? Do not make rash and specific statements with respect to release dates; it is better to keep them vague. It is, moreover, better to break a deadline, than to break the flow of your story. As for ‘The Rude Woman of Cerne’, I hope to publish this before October is out, but do not be surprised if it should not appear until early November. ‘The Cleft Owl, will be released before Christmas, hopefully during the latter part of next month.  

 

Gwydion’s Glastonbury: the Inspiration behind ‘Gwydion’s Dawn’

Glastonbury – the town rather than the festival – is a unique place both geographically and socially. Although there are other kindred locations across England which act as magnets for folk of a countercultural mystical metaphysical bent, such as Totnes and Hebden Bridge, none of them quite match Glastonbury’s mystique. Neither do they equal its quotient of hemp, crystal nor fairy based business acumen, as is plainly evident from the host of independent businesses that line its High Street. If you pop into a bookshop, you will discover more volumes devoted to aligning your chakras than to fixing your plumbing, although water has played as much a role in the town’s history as has mysticism.

The profile of the Tor, topped by the ruined tower of St Michael’s Church, arrests the eye of the first-time visitor to the Somerset Levels, its drama and aesthetic appeal self-evident, even when shorn of the myths and legends that have attached themselves to this spot over the centuries. Set amidst the low-lying swamps and marshes that remained hereabouts until being drained by the efforts of mediaeval monks, its former status as a peninsula would initially have attracted settlers, being both defensible, and possessed of a reliable source of good drinking water from Chalice Well. It would likely also have appealed to any aesthetic or ‘spiritual’ sensibilities possessed by those who set up home in this supposed Avalon.

Historically, Glastonbury has been a place of Christian pilgrimage, but it would seem that the publicity of canny monks, eager to raise funds to assist in the reconstruction of Glastonbury Abbey following the fire of 1184, unintentionally gave birth, many centuries later, to the town’s association with myth and all manner of New Age beliefs. Their alleged discovery of the graves of Arthur and Guinevere in 1191 put the town firmly on the map as a place of pilgrimage, even going so far as to attract royalty, but the lead cross said to have been found along with the grave vanished during the turbulence of the English Reformation. Furthermore, the first mention of another key element of Glastonbury’s myth – the ‘Holy Thorn’ – appears later than many might suppose, for the first reference to it did not come to light, in print, until the early sixteenth century, not long before the Abbey was destroyed during the Dissolution.

‘And did those feet in ancient time,

Walk upon England’s mountains green’?  

I would hazard a guess that they did not. Still, it is not Christianity that dominates the town’s ‘spiritual’ life today, but an unclassifiable melange of eastern mysticism, magic and Neopaganism, most of those subscribing to these beliefs possessing a generally benign intent, whilst being innocuously ineffectual. If you should care to walk its streets today, you may not find Gwydion Turner himself, but you might well find someone with views not a million miles from those held by the character, and expressed in equally pretentious and portentous tones. His creation arose from my own personal observations of people immersed in the ‘alternative’ hippie subculture as it then stood some thirty years or so ago, of their attitudes, beliefs and mannerisms. He is representative of a type that seems intent to impose unnecessary complexity upon life, whilst pretending to some closely-guarded esoteric knowledge that transpires to amount to nothing more than a combination of solemn verbiage and a self-professed belief in some ‘deeper reality hidden behind the veil’. Such attitudes are ripe for satire, although they are so theatrical and outlandish, that those who possess them frequently lapse into self-parody without being conscious of the fact.

Many years ago, I recall happening upon a building in one of the back streets of Weston-Super-Mare that had once served as a temple for the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn, but whether it remains there now, I cannot say. Given the absence of any pictures of the Osiris Temple on the internet, perhaps it was demolished some time ago. Still, the former presence of this occult network in Somerset suggested that it could provide fertile material with which to work in creating a Glastonbury mystery: an occult mystery at that, so doubly mysterious.

I leave it to you, dear reader, to determine whether ‘Gwydion’s Dawn’ is primarily a mystery or a comedy, but it was written with the intent of being both. You may, perhaps, detect a nod or two to Somerset Maugham’s ‘The Magician’ (which I read so long ago that I cannot honestly say I recall a great deal), with a touch of ‘Spinal Tap’ in Gwydion’s musical recollections, and ‘Hot Fuzz’ in the nature of local policing. Wells, after all, almost shares equal billing with Glastonbury in terms of where the action unfolds, and if you should ever find South Pennard, do let me know. I have heard it said that the peat has long since swallowed up the ‘Royal Oak’.