Why am I doing this? I’m asking myself this question… why put my entire work out for free, and even be considering self-epublishing? That isn’t something that many writers who want to be ‘taken seriously’ do. There are, of course, a number of high profile authors who have been doing just this, but too often […]
July 25, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
<— Previous ~~~~~ Chapter Two “I seem to have misplaced a bound, you see.” The two of them squeezed through the hole, newly torn in the ‘crete of the vault wall, its steel joists raw as bare bond, and jagged as if a screen artifact of hi-res fire. Then they fell into the blank alleyway […]
July 23, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
*More what I’d like to see, than necessarily what it is we’re going to get, don’t hold me as a futurist. Imagine signing in to Pottermore as a first year (of course, we must all learn to run before we can fly). Term starts in September, but you can still come in as a late […]
July 22, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
This is the start of a monthly series, where I’ll be putting up some non-Bibliotek work. Not the whole of any other book, but some tasters. This is from my novel The Miracle. I’ll tell you more about it another time, and let this speak for itself. Hope you like it, and, as per usual, if […]
July 18, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
<— Previous ~~~~~ Nanograph One Andy had never been much of an Author himself. Not that that’d stopped him being chosen for this mission. The employer having sent Julia to him with the material. He felt his stomach clench. Around the hard, finger length capsule in his gut. Just for once… Andy wished he was […]
July 16, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
<— Previous ~~~~~ Have you ever rained down from a volcano? Graham hadn’t, not until they base-jumped from the tower amongst the new thermals which smashed them downward. Shades had thrown him something like a poncho and told him, “it knows what to do.” Blessed fashion, he thought, at least it knows what to do. […]
July 15, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
<— Previous ~~~~~ Earlier that night, they’d taken a train to the hit. High on metamphetamines—on ultra-caff—they sleeked through the tiled wetroom of the London Underground; the non-Euclidean geometry of it. Graham had always believed that it brought cottage industry needle work to mind. Or blue, French pastoral china. He had not thought to laugh […]
July 14, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
<— Previous ~~~~~ * * * * * At the Indian dance she sat to his left, a little behind him, but leaning forward into his row. Turning her nose from a tepid splash of scentless sweat—from the jewelled net of inverted bubbles cast by the performers—they started to talk business. They spoke over the […]
July 13, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
<— Previous ~~~~~ Facing certain death, because his life had fallen apart. Comparatively speaking. Literally—figuratively? Whatever! It hadn’t been long ago that he’d found himself, watching a performance by gorgeous college dance students, and approached by the Collective to join up. The dancers on the stage had appeared uncomfortable. It was a contemporisation of classical […]
July 29, 2011 by Paul McLaughlan
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