Here I am at the edge

The new face of Jannine This lady is my good friend, the singer Janey Kirk   http://www.janeykirk.com/ , I can't thank Janey too much for the honour of using her photo on the cover of my upcoming story - a rewrite of my e-novella  - A Sailor's Love   https://www.draft2digital.com/book/34522 . I'm not expecting the book to be ready for a long time, the original took over a year to write and edit.  You can listen to my Janey sing on   https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC1dpL7uGYmY1DCfie7_ih_A

Erotica Draft2Digital   Recently, my distributor of e-books (Draft2Digital   https://www.draft2digital.com/book/   ) joined services with Oyster . Most - about 90% - of my sales are through Barnes & Noble , but any new area needs to be tested. So, I signed my books in to the Oyster catalogue, to my amusement two books were excluded for being classed as Erotica , I class them as Erotic Romances . True, they are steamy, but the passion is in the story, not the story. Sexual Explosions , and The Love of the Sea were excluded, but Sex at the Mill , and A Sailor's Love were admitted. ASL is more erotically charged than its predecessor TLOS. 

Picking herself up from the floor, Angie commented, “Judging by the violence we witnessed then, and the front pressure build up, I wouldn’t say more than two hours or three at the utmost. If you planned on doing something, it’s now or never, Helmut. You get your things ready and I’ll get back to ‘The Pot’ and call the guys to help us. God help us for what is coming our way” Helmut crossed himself and said, “Amen to that, Angie -- if he can’t -- nobody can.” The raging storm outside slammed wood from the beach against the small hut and made the glass in the windows rattle to the extent small cracks and fissures began to show. In the violence of the winds and rain Jannine’s voice was all but lost as she yelled, “I don’t know what you meant about spirits, but this is no ordinary storm look at the sea!” Helmut and Angie looked out and saw what Jannine was talking about, the waves had risen to the size of a four storey house and were taking the shapes of various demonic forms, ...

 Before I begin, I must tell you I have nothing against people who write or read erotica -- although I do have personal limits too what I find arousing -- I wrote a couple of erotic love stories, so I can't say I am against the genre.  My stories contain some erotica as part of erotic romance and I see this as a true showing of the love between the two people, but at all times the man shows respect and care for the lady -- an old fashioned concept these days -- but this is how I feel love should be.   To define the differences in my view:-  The difference lies in the emphasis of the title, to me an erotica writer writes mainly erotica and that is not (!) me. While a writer of erotica writes erotica as a part of their larger scope of writing  this is (!) me.  I prefer to define myself as a writer -- no genre -- but if you need to categorise my stories then I am best described as a ghost or Gothic horror story writer.

 Many of my stories are set on the coastal regions of England. I grew up on the Yorkshire coast north of Scarborough and use the area in my various stories as I have great memories of nice times, even before my last visit in 2010.   Many sailors will tell you they don't feel at home on land and can feel the pull of the sea in their blood, I can well believe what they say as I am at my calmest near the coast and love nothing more than being out on a stormy day watching and listening to the waves.   I am not sure which element is connected to my birthday -- but I had a scary few moments on the docks in Bristol many years ago -- I was working at the Bristol Industrial Museum at the time and was walking across the rail lines, something I had done for many months without thinking. Suddenly, I could feel myself being drawn to the water's edge as if by some elemental energy, was it because my marriage was going through a bad patch? Did I feel the urge to k...

 Fishermen like those shown here are from an age which no longer exists, gone are the small boats which were run by families with traditions going back generations; men like my late grandfather and my uncles who fished the North Sea for Cod.   The men of the Britten operas were men who knew what to fish and where to fish, now it's all done with sonar and there are so many restrictions fishing is a dying trade, as seen in an episode of Wycliffe, if you catch more than your quota or the wrong fish it's "Black Fish" which you are not allowed to sell -- so you end up throwing good food to the gulls and putting men's lives at risk for nothing.  Coming from a family of fishermen, I have nothing but the highest regard for the men who go out in the boats; facing all weathers and risks. One of the saddest things I saw was during my tour of Scotland -- in the Royal Air Force -- I was on my way to the docks to take some photos and in a tiny alcove on a wall was...

In the story "The Lost Ship" I tell a fictional version of the story of the very real Yorkshire pirate John Andrew who was the scourge of the coast from Scarborough to Saltburn-on-the-Sea; where he ran the Ship Inn (shown below). The story is the the story which should have come third in a writing contest, but got hacked twice by a jealous person I used to know  http://hereiamattheedge.blogspot.co.uk/search?q=Lessons+in+futility#.UrrpjtJdXDM  however in the end her goal was achieved and it has taken over a year to get my work recognised again, mainly with the help of Julia, my editor in Seattle.  What I wrote is fiction based on fact, but read about the true haunting in   http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0088QPW92  . With poetic licence, the Ship Inn became the "Lobster Pot" mentioned in "Love of the Sea," which is to extended and brought out as "A Sailor's Love."  Also in this book is the story of "The Rocking Lantern" a ...

After considerable in-fighting my muse and I came to a stalemate and she agreed not to send any new ideas until my latest book is finished, and in two months it will be a year old and still has an undetermined future.

I realise this might be pre-emptive, but the year is almost over and I don't foresee much change ahead. The best month was September with seven sales-mostly Holding Richmond. The best quarter was June to September with the majority of sales being for Holding Richmond again. The personal highs for me were working with Julia, my editor, getting paid by Yahoo.com for articles and receiving a cheque from Amazon. Two stories from this year stood out-Forgestriker, the second in the Sons of Baal sci-fi series and Glacier of Death, the following story to my second best seller, Nerja, both sold two copies. I realise this isn't a lot to many writers, but to me it is huge. Hopes for the early months of next year:- In February the contest in Toronto is judged and it would be nice to get a top six place and entry in the Merrill Collection for my story "Silence of the mind." I hope to finish the extended version of "The Love of the Sea," I shall probably add a...

http://alsdomain.weebly.com/love-of-the-sea.html#.UczH5TvVAW4  Yes, "The Love of the Sea" is going strong on the other blog in its twice a week blog, drop over and catch up with Jannine and Helmut.

The next episode for readers on Weebly has gone live, if anybody wishes to read it here is your link  http://alsdomain.weebly.com/19/post/2013/05/old-scars-new-love.html#.UZqIRKLVAW4

With the successes of "Love of the Sea"  http://alsdomain.weebly.com/love-of-the-sea.html  and "Chronicles" http://alsdomain.weebly.com/chronicles-of-mark-johnson.html#.UZY3GqLVAW4  on line, I am returning to my Sci-Fi horror mix to bring a new and cleaner read to The Word  http://alsdomain.weebly.com/the-word.html

 When I wrote "The Love of the Sea,"  I started out with the idea with the idea of a short ghost story with a romantic theme. I had a reputation for good ghost stories and had not done a romantic one before, so I thought I would try. I sent it to a friend for her free read section on the blog and had some nice comments and my friend told me that the story was very popular. I had the thought maybe I can expand it a little; never imagining that I would expand a 1,200 word story into a novel, but that does appear to be what is happening as the story is now over 26,000 words and still going strong. I think my largest collection to date is the first Chronicles book at around 30,000  http://www.amazon.com/dp/B008BEDMSO  which is a series of short stories introducing the characters who appear in the forthcoming book 2.

I'm re-writing "The Ghost of St. Mary's" as the first stage in the newer version of "Sea Ghosts." I have no planned release dates as both "Love of the Sea" and "The rise of Prospero" are on going.

She leant forward and hugged her friend, through the pain and tears she observed the man behind the brave public face; he was a tough seaman but now he found himself lost, lonely and afraid, yet she sensed something mysterious about him and had difficulty putting her finger on what was the puzzle. He is a fisherman but his voice and accent aren’t from Germany or Scandinavia, “Where had he come from?” She thought. “I’ll go gently with you, you are a tough seaman but your body needs to heal properly and that means some TLC and no major straining doing too much work,” she said. “But...” With a semi-serious look and a twinkle in her eye, Jannine said, “There are no buts in this discussion; do as I say or you will get punished,” she said ending the conversation by giving him a kiss, “now, let me get some ointment on those wounds; sea water is a kill or cure quick fix, but they do need to be treated.” Helmut’s pain was clear for her to see as he gingerly eased the shirt of his str...

Helmut’s shoulders were sore and the movement in them was limited, he tried to pull the jumper over his head, but the cold weather and the aching limbs did not make it easy. He slowly stripped off his seaman’s jumper and Jannine was able to view for the first, how muscular his body had become after years on the docks and trawlers. She had seen the men on the docks, but they had become like family to her and meant nothing sexual. Here before her stood the man to take Ian’s place in her heart and soul, she thought she sensed his yearning as he pulled off the wet shirt which had clung provocatively to his frame, the muscles showing through the wet material. His matted blonde hair stuck to his face like a wet mat and had the smell of old smoke. Jannine looked at him and smiling she said, “If you feel all right about us, you can take your trousers off too as they can do with a dry, before you get chills on your legs. I’ll go and try to turn the radiators on, so we can dry your clothes.”...

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00ALHSC6G   This is a good selection of my ghost stories, covering early ones such as "The Ghost of St. Mary's" and following through to the short version of "Love of the Sea," which later in the year will be out as a single larger book,

Tired as he may be, the fact both of them had seen a ghost outside the hut intrigued Helmut, perhaps Jannine’s ghost had been caused by his closeness and her remembrances of Ian but what about him? He had never heard of Ian before tonight, why did he see the ghost? He was a seaman and superstitious by nature of the job; things at sea or not always what you may think they are, spray can distort the light and lights in the night cannot always be explained away as passing ships. After finishing his coffee, he decided the only way to appease his curiosity was to take another look, he drank the last mouthful and grabbed the coat which Jannine had brought for him, wrapping it around his tired, muscular frame; he went out into the storm to try and get another glance at the spectre. He opened the hut door and was immediately hit by the chill in the wind, as he shivered and pulled the coat closer into his body, he thought , “I hope Jannine got back to ‘The Pot’ safe.” Helmut walked around...

Helmut glanced at the young lady who lay beside him and his eyes misted over and a tear fell onto his cheek; he thought Jannine hadn’t noticed as he quickly wiped the droplet away, “Who is she?” Jannine asked. “Who is who?” Helmut replied. “I saw you cry a tear for a lost loved one, Helmut, please let me into your heart and before you say it was water dripping, your hair is dry so you can’t use that as an excuse.” “I had a passing thought, you remind me of my young sister. She left us a few years ago and we never heard of her again, the family keep hoping for a letter but as times passes and hopes die.” Jannine cuddled into his taut muscular frame and gave him a soft kiss as she whispered, “I’m sorry, I had no idea and I feel bad for asking.” He rolled onto his back and pulled her down with him, “Please don’t be upset, what I did wasn’t your fault; sometimes I get memories of her on the beach with the wind blowing her hair back and my sister splashing in the water’s edge an...

Jannine could feel his strong arms pulling her into the strong body of his and she realised she would have been ready for him but the friendship had to be done at his pace; this way the love would grow and be strong and he would realise he had been loved and not just lusted after. Helmut gazed through the misty rain and dark shadows and asked, “What happened to Ian?” Jannine didn’t take her eyes off the glass but the sadness was easy to hear in her voice when she replied, “Nobody knows, he went out one night and the next day we found the boat sailing; we found no signs of him or a struggle on the boat.” “What was the weather like the night he set out?” “That is the reason for the mystery. The night was still and it had been a beautifully calm day, not a sign of high wind or a storm. Ian had been a good swimmer since his late teens but his body never turned up along the shores and the boat came ashore intact, the whole thing put the village on edge for months.” He pulled Jan...