Characters! And trees thereof!

Sorry for the delayed post,  life keeps getting in the way. This week I wanted to talk about character trees. In their simplest form these are a list of the physical and character attributes of your cast. Everyone has their own idea of what these entail but I'll cover some of the basic information that they should include.

Why bother doing one in the first place? I find they're useful to ensure your characters remain consistent throughout your novel and help you differentiate them from each other so everyone doesn't act and sound the same. Working out who your characters are will help a lot in working out what they will do once you get to plotting. Here's a quick list of what you might include in a character tree.

·         A quick overview or biography of the character. Who are they? What do they want? What's their relationship to other characters? Where are they at emotionally?

·         Physical description. This can be anything from body type, hair colour, eye colour to how they dress. Be sure to include every detail you think is pertinent, from whether they wear jewellery or make up to their personal hygiene regime. It'll inform your writing of the character through the book.

·         Their character traits. Are they outgoing or introverted? The life of the party or do they sit in the corner sipping a coke? What are their interests? What are their strengths and, more importantly, their flaws. That last one is important. Nobody's perfect and the protagonist of your novel shouldn't be either. They need something to humanize them. I'll give you an example: take Superman and Spider-man. Superman is perfect, he's the strongest, smartest and has the ethics of Ghandi. As a result of this he's about as interesting as whole grain toast. Spider-man isn't perfect. He's often late for important events in his personal life, he's prone to slipping up and he rarely gets the girl. He's human but you wouldn't mind grabbing a beer with him sometime, He feels like an approachable guy. Remember you need your readers to want to spend time with your characters, make them likable but not perfect. We hate those who have everything, sad but true.

·         Their relationships with others. Who are their parents? Are they married? Engaged? Do they have kids? Are they a good husband/wife/mother/dad/friend? Who do they hang out with?

·         Their character arc. Who are they at the start of the book? How do they change? What new skills do they learn? Who are they at the end?

 

That covers the basics. As an added bonus I'm including my own character tree for the character Aimee from "Flare." It's not perfect but it could serve as a practical guide to what you might need before you start tackling the plot. My tree for Aimee isn't comprehensive, there's more in the novel that I didn't have here, but that's the fun of writing, sometimes you end up in a place you weren't expecting. I’ve also left out my character notes for books two and three, because spoilers. As always, please direct any questions, comments and offers of hugs to me via facebook.com/flarebookseries or @paddylennon1 on twitter.

Flare Series: Character trees.

Character: Aimee Dewitt (Revenant)

Bio.

Aimee is aged fourteen in part one of book one. She’s a “Vanguard” fan girl when we first meet her. She buys all their merchandise and idolises them completely. Her family are rich, her Dad, Paul, runs “DeWitt Industries” an electronics concern and weapons manufacturer. Aimee’s mother is Barbara, a former model and beauty queen. Aimee doesn’t really get on with her parents. Her Dad is distant and only had a child so there’d be someone to carry on the family name and inherit the money. Her mother is obsessed with fashion and likes spending her husband’s money. Barbara is a little put out that a daughter of hers could be so uninterested in shoes and clothes.

Aimee is embarrassed by the money her family has and isn’t really into the whole “accumulating possessions” thing. She hasn't got any friends as she finds stuff the girls her own age are interested in to be boring and she feels that most boys her own age are too dumb to be worth dealing with.

When Aimee and her mother are kidnapped it’s up to Aimee to step up and free herself. But what happens that night leaves her heartbroken and angry. Angry enough to decide to train and become a vigilante like the Vanguard members she adores.

In part two, Aimee is nineteen. She’s still not in regular contact with her father although she hears from him occasionally. She has spent the intervening five years training in martial arts, free-running etc to become a superhero. She’s been inspired by the Vanguard to try to make the world a better place, one crippled mugger at a time. Her love for the Vanguard will make her helping Ryan a natural thing when she encounters him; after all, he’s the only son of her heroes and inspiration.

Aimee is an experienced and creative fighter. In her five year training period she’s become an expert in Escrima, Silat, Kick-boxing, Karate and BJJ and is able to mix and match these fighting styles. Of the three main characters she’s the most “heroic” of the lot and, initially, by far the most competent. She’s brave, tough and utterly unwilling to back down from a fight. She has no trouble charging headfirst into a brawl and throwing everything at her opponent until they’re beaten, though she's not above cheating to ensure that she'll win. She does have a tendency to be brutal, she won’t hesitate to dislocate or break an opponent’s bones with her first strike if it means she’ll come out on top. 

Appearance.

Aimee is five foot four, brown haired and reasonably attractive. She’d be stunning if she ever made the effort to dress up, a side effect of having a model mother. She’s a fitness nut and exercises a lot through martial arts training and jogging so she’s in excellent shape and health.

Her clothing is practical and plain, no bright colours or ornamentation. She doesn’t wear jewellery as this would be dangerous in a fight (earrings get pulled out etc). She will wear gym gear a lot on her down time and hoodies and jeans when just hanging out. None of her relaxation clothes will be top of the line stuff, no Gucci or Prada for her, just better than average brands but nothing flashy.

She wears a bare minimum of make-up, no fake tan etc.

She will dress up for work, plain suits and blouses, better than the average but not over the top in any way. She’s a little ashamed of her wealth and doesn’t want to advertise it.

Revenant.

Aimee’s costume as Revenant will be practical, plain and cover her entire body. It’s mostly black with some grey accents. It would be similar to the survival suit from “Batman Begins”, matte black body armour with a soldier’s web-gear on top. It’ll be tough enough to stop a bullet or blade but also flexible enough to allow her to fight.  She carries her equipment in her web gear. Two Escrima sticks in a scabbard on her back (sticks are thirty-two inches long), combat knife in a scabbard on her left thigh, Grappling gun in a holster on her left thigh. Two flashbang grenades in a pouch on her waist. Other pouches have plastic explosive, detonators, a Leatherman tool, a torch, matches in a waterproof pouch, survival rations and a canteen of water.

She wears a mask to obscure her features but which leaves her mouth visible. The lenses in her mask act as infra-red and night vision lenses when required.

She has a portable computer built into the gauntlet on her left wrist, this is a GPS / map and can help her hack into security systems etc.

Book One Character Arc.

Aimee becomes a hero after a tragedy. We see her first night as a hero and on her second evening in the suit she runs into Ryan. She starts out as someone who is only interested in revenge but meeting Ryan will soften her somewhat. She’ll joke with him etc as she’s so happy to be hanging out with the son of the people who inspired her.  She’s almost too ready to trust him but will quickly assign herself the role of his protector as she realises that Ryan can be a little swept up in things and quickly finds himself out of his depth.  She may even come across as a little bossy to Ryan at certain points but it’s because she wants him to push him to live up to his lineage.

Things I wish I knew before starting to write.

Now that I've got Flare out there and Shooting Star is coming along nicely I thought I'd write a few pieces for the blog about things I wish I knew before I started to write a novel. I didn't really have a lot of experience with creative writing before I began Flare, I did the small amount required in school and then, once the decision was made that I wanted to give writing a try, I attended a number of creative writing courses and workshops. Some of these helped, some didn’t.

In short, I was wholly unprepared for the hell I was about to unleash on myself. Most writing courses seem to focus on writing style and so on but don’t seem to address the nuts and bolts of motivation to write, story-lining or character development.

This complete lack of preparation meant that writing Flare included a lot more work than it should have been. Now that I'm two years wiser and managed to get Shooting Star in readable shape in less than half the time of my first try I figured I'd spread the word about how others can learn from my numerous mistakes. This week I'll go through ten tips about tackling a novel that will make your life easier. Ready? Let's begin!

1. Write what you love. People always say “write what you know”. They're often correct but with fiction if you stick to writing about what you've directly experienced then things will get boring for both writer and reader. If I only wrote about “what I know” then most of my writing would be about sandwiches, about which I am an expert. Also, the science fiction and fantasy genres wouldn't exist as no one has ever travelled to another planet or fought a dragon in real life. So, a writer has to lie and write about things they don't know about. It's more interesting. When you decide to write, whether a poem, short story, comic book, screenplay or novel, you need to pick a topic that compels you. It needs to be something that you're not going to get bored by over the length of time it takes to write the story, see it published and promote it. That can be anywhere from two to ten years. That's a significant amount of time, so choose wisely and make sure you're writing something you would like to read or the motivation to tackle an 80,000 word time sucker like a novel will disappear fast.
2. Plan. I found it to be impossible to just start writing from page one of a word document. The white space of that first page just stares at you and turns your mind to mush. Plot holes and inconsistencies will abound unless you’ve taken the time to figure as much as possible out in advance. Not everything needs to be planned to perfection; that will spoil the fun that spontaneously creating an unplanned character or scene can bring. You do need to outline the main plot of the novel in terms of "A then B then C then D then ending." I found that this saved me from running out of steam half way through the book and stopped writers block from occurring. If you know what the ending is then you'll always at least be able to write that! I'll go into greater detail about plot outlines and character building in coming weeks.
3. Write for the edit. Get the first draft written. That’s it. Don't worry about formatting or spelling or even if chunks of character development are missing. Just get the main plot fleshed out as completely as possible for your first draft. You need something you can edit. This first draft will represent the most difficult part of the process, and most likely the longest period of writing time so get it done in a basic format. You can work on making it pretty later.
4. Take a break. Leave your first draft in a drawer, go watch some movies and maybe even go on holiday. Rest a little, you've earned it. Then you can come back for the second draft refreshed and with your mind ready for the next bit.
5. Draft, then redraft. Read your first draft again. By the end you'll have spotted a million things you need to fix: characterisation, plot holes, dialogue. These are going to be the things you need to fix. Once it's done repeat as necessary. How often? More than one book on writing I’ve read recommends seven drafts. Flare got eight by the time I felt it was good enough to be let free into the world. It still isn’t a perfect novel by any means but it’s my first, I’ll get better. The only writer to do a perfect first novel was Harper Lee, I’m no Harper Lee.
6. Listen to what's going on around you. Don't just lock yourself in an office and write all the time. Get out into the world and pay attention to what's going on. Listen to how people talk and interact, it'll improve your dialogue and character interplay in later drafts.
7. Be specific. If your planned story allows you to, use real world examples in your novel. It helps relate the world your character lives in to the world we know. Use real street names, places, events and flora and fauna to make your world a real place. I'm assuming the book is set on Earth.  A flock of birds shouldn’t just be a flock of birds; it's a flock of sparrows or seagulls. These extra little bits of description help the reader get a feel for the fictional world, which is what you want if you’re hoping they stick around until the end.
8. If you love it, let it go. Sometimes there'll be a piece of dialogue or particular sequence that you adore that just doesn't fit the story. Maybe a character says something that doesn't gel or the scene doesn't serve a narrative purpose, you have to be brave enough to cut these out and save them for another time and place. Every writer has a box marked "for later use" containing their discarded ideas. Don't panic if something you like doesn't belong anywhere, someday it will.
9. Spelling and grammar. Once the story and character arcs are good and you're happy to have someone else read it, have another pass and fix all the spelling and grammar errors. You won't catch them all but it'll help everyone else. An agent or publisher will throw manuscripts with poor spelling in the bin without reading them. They've got plenty of adequately written books to read to spend time hoping to find a gem amongst all the scripts with incorrect spelling. This applies double if you're planning to self-publish. This is your work, there's no one else to blame if there are errors. Editing text is boring but extremely important. The most exciting story telling in the world won't mean Jack if it's an unreadable mess.
10. Get another reader or two. Once your manuscript is in legible condition and you're happy with the idea of others reading it then proceed to find a friend to give it a look. Ideally, your friend will have at least a passing interest in the topic of the book, they'll have read similar works or pieces in the genre and will be familiar with the conventions etc. Once your clued in friend has prepared notes, work on those as your next draft. Then find another reader who isn't a fan of the genre, they'll spot things the previous reader missed and will force you to work to explain items that maybe the casual reader will need explained. Again, use their notes as the basis of another draft.

That's it for this week; hopefully my limited experience will help make you think about what you could do to make your work better. If anyone has a topic to suggest please do so via Facebook: Facebook.com/flarebook or Twitter @paddylennon1

Flare: The Kitchen Scene

Here's an extract from Chapter five of the book. This is probably the scene in the book that went through the most re-writes. The characters have already been introduced at this point in an earlier battle scene but I wanted to add some depth to them and show off their personalities and particularly their relationships, mainly through dialogue. I hope you all enjoy it and see you next week for one more extract.

Velocity sped into the kitchen in her dressing gown to put the coffee on. Mage was sitting at the table with a full breakfast already prepared.

“Morning!” he said cheerfully.

“Mage?! What in the name of Heaven are you doing?” she tied the belt of her dressing gown tighter, making sure she was completely covered up. “Since when do you get up this early? How did you get in here?”

“I can walk through walls when I need to.”

Velocity covered her face with her hands, it was too early in the morning to be dealing with this guy: “Why did you “need” to walk through ours first thing in the morning?”

“I need a small favour. Tiny, you could even say its infinitesimal. My new line of wholesome, healthy foodstuffs is getting its official launch today. Photographers, T.V. cameras, all that good stuff. I could use some backup. It’d be good P.R. for the team!”

Solarstorm entered the room dressed in a navy suit, a blue shirt and tie.

“This is the same “wholesome” stuff that you complained gave you Diarrhoea last month?” He asked.

“The very same. The Doctor actually said it was chronic Diarrhoea, by the way. I have a sick note.” Mage picked up a box of breakfast cereal from the table. “Check this out. It's called “Mages Choice” and it's worth a lot of money to selected charities.”

Velocity examined the box, which had a picture of Mage smiling and giving a thumbs up as he used a spoon to scoop up some cereal from a bowl.

She laughed: “Do these “charities” include the local bars, restaurants and clothes stores?”

“Oh, what’s this? I'm getting harassment from the woman who endorsed those running shoes that are made by five year olds in a sweatshop.”

“Those allegations were never proven!” Velocity retorted.

Solarstorm raised his voice to try and stop the developing argument: “We’re not interested Mage. Buying a lot of fancy food from your company won’t make people healthier or thinner, Why not just tell people to eat some fruit and vegetables and do some exercise if they want to be healthy?”

“Because” Mage said slowly, as if speaking to a child; “that’s…not…profitable. “Mage’s Choice” is more than just a food brand. The very name conjures up a lifestyle choice that means no stress and no effort, just the need to spend money on these “dried fruit crunchies” that I’m selling.”

Solarstorm sat down and poured himself a large cup of coffee.

“Very nice. Was some of that a quote from the press release?”

“Yes.”

“No deal. People are told to buy useless junk by companies all the time; we’re not getting involved in that.”

“Fine, Ok. But what about that reality show that my agent is trying to set up over at the TV network? Can't you at least sign off on that?”

“Not happening. We're private individuals. We don't like seeing our faces plastered everywhere.”

“We're the world's greatest heroes. We're going to have our faces everywhere whether we want to or not. Am I the only one who wants to make some money off of that?”

Solarstorm sighed: “We’re well looked after by the Government. Velocity and I love to do the charity work but we're not in this for the money. In fact we're thinking of stepping back from all this.”

“You're breaking up the band?!” asked Mage, surprised.

“We've been talking about it.”

A tear appeared in Mage’s eye. He fell off his chair and got down on his knees:

“Please, please do this for me! For us! For the good of humanity! Couldn’t you at least wait until my brand has established itself in the marketplace?”

“That was much better than usual, have you been practicing your grovelling technique?”

Mage began to cry: “I don’t want to die poor! I don’t want to!”

Real tears continued to streak down his cheeks as he pounded his fist on the floor and wailed.

“We're not needed Mage.” Velocity cut in, “Yesterday was the first action we've seen in six months. Our family deserves a normal life. We've been superheroes but not great parents for a long while now. It's time for us to fix that.”

Mage got to his feet and wiped the tears from his eyes: “Thanks for that rousing speech, Yoko Ono. You two are a disappointment!”

Mage strode to the door, opened it and slammed it loudly, for effect. He turned around to face Velocity and glared angrily at her for a few seconds. He finally left the apartment by passing through the wall as if it wasn’t there.

Solarstorm looked puzzled: “How is it that he can enter our apartment and make breakfast without making a sound but he always makes sure to slam the door when he’s leaving?”

“Typical Irishman.”

Solarstorm tried some of the cereal. It was terrible. He coughed most of the mouthful into a napkin and washed the remainder of the cereal down with some orange juice.

“That’s awful; I think I’ll have some toast instead.”

Solarstorm picked up a slice of bread in his right hand and pointed his left index finger at it; his finger emitted a soft orange glow, within seconds the bread started to toast.

 “Do you want to discuss what we said last night?" asked Velocity “Ryan will be up soon and we should talk to him about it”.

“I think we’re done. The super criminals are all safely locked away and the Police are well able to handle everything else, they could have dealt with that hostage situation in the Casino without our help. The Mayor didn’t need to call us in for that.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been thinking the same for a while.”

 

Ryan walked into the room, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, carrying a schoolbag over his right shoulder. Solarstorm smiled at him:

“So kiddo, you ready for your first day of public school?”

Ryan nodded: He had already decided not to tell them that he had actually started yesterday. It would upset them if they realised that they had forgotten the correct date. “Got my switchblade, some notebooks, my laptop and these writing sticks.” He said, fishing in his backpack and producing some ballpoint pens.

“Pens? I remember those. Is your switchblade properly sharpened?” Solarstorm deadpanned.

“I think so; Warfare gave it to me last Christmas. He doesn’t usually give inferior sharp objects as gifts.”

Solarstorm looked across into the living room to see the display of old fashioned weaponry that Warfare had given the family over the years, Battle-Axes, Swords and even a Mace were displayed in various locked cabinets. Warfare had odd ideas about what people should receive for birthdays and Christmas, but his heart was in the right place.

“Honey, leave that at home!” said Velocity

“Mum, I don’t really have one.” said Ryan, a little exasperated, “I asked Warfare but he said I wasn’t ever going to need one.”

“He’s right; this is a public school you’re going to, not Iraq.”

“Ok, but if I come home covered in bruises…”

“Could you try to avoid that kind of thing? We’re running out of schools to send you to.”

“Tell the kids to stop picking on me just because my Dad can knock buildings over and my Mum can run faster than anyone else on the planet. Things are a lot different to when you two were in school.”

“Hey” Velocity cut in “We had it hard growing up too!”

“You had powers, I don’t.”

“You still might. You’re only fourteen.”

“I’d prefer not to get any, thanks. Am I supposed to grow up to be a super-powered accountant or something?”   

Solarstorm grabbed his car keys from the kitchen counter: “Come on, I’ll drive you to school. We still have plenty of time to ruin your life for you. You’re our responsibility until you turn eighteen.”

“Yeah, you two go on ahead” said Velocity. “This apartment is a pigsty; I’m going to clean it.”

Ryan looked around the spotless apartment;” Mum, we really need to get you a hobby. I hear that knitting is a lot of fun.”

“I already tried it. I can knit a jumper in forty seconds. Your Dad has a wardrobe full of them from when we started dating.”

“I never wear them because they’re so special.” said Solarstorm. “It’s definitely not because they’re in garish colours that make my eyes bleed.”

“We’re going to be late!” said Ryan, checking his watch.

Solarstorm smiled: “See Lisa? He gets that from you. We’ll speak to Warfare when I get back.”

“Sure, go. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

 

Ryan sat in the passenger seat of his Dad’s car as they drove through the traffic on the way to school.

“Listen Ryan. Your Mom and I are worried. Are you going to be OK in this new school? You’ve had a lot of trouble fitting in everywhere.”

“Something about having superhero parents doesn’t lead to making friends easily.”

“I can understand that. It’s difficult to make friends at all. You’d be surprised how few we have. Outside of the hero community, I mean.”

“Because you have powers?”

“That’s part of it, but it’s more like regular folks don’t really approach us as people. We’re icons, like famous actors or singers. People see the glitzy public façade but not what’s inside. The fact that we’re famous makes our relationships a bit on the superficial side. People want to be friends with you for what you can do for them. Not necessarily because of the person you are. We don’t want that for you. If there’s a chance for you to be a normal person, unaffected by all the craziness that this life brings, then we’re going to take it.”

“Which means what exactly?”

“It means we want you to study and talk to kids your own age, your best friend at the moment is a walking pile of rocks that likes to smash robots.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good, I’m not sure that I’ll be able to pick you up, you can get the school bus home if neither your mother nor I can make it. I’ve a feeling that the meeting with Warfare is going to take some time. Enjoy your day. Try to talk to some other teenagers, preferably ones who aren’t members of a gang.” 

Flare: Chapter Two.

After the blurb last week it's time for the first of three sample chapters I'll be putting up here in the run up to releasing the book sometime in mid August. This is the shortest chapter of the book at 1400 words. Generally I aim to have the chapters end up being around 3,500 to 4,000 words for a couple of reasons which i'll bore you with over a pint sometime. I thought for the preview I'd focus on introducing you to some of the main characters, namely Ryan Curtis and his parents, Jake and Lisa. This extract is the entire of chapter two and serves as an introduction to Ryan. 

Chapter Two: First Day.

 Ryan sat on the armchair beside the window in his bedroom. It was seven in the morning and his parents were nowhere to be found. That wasn’t surprising. He had heard them leave an hour earlier as they raced out the door of the apartment to go to work. Had they managed to forget about today and how important it was? There was no way they were going to be back on time. Ryan decided to get ready for school by himself.

He was already washed and dressed so all he had to do was drag his protesting body off the chair, pick up his school bag and head out the door. He entered the kitchen, opened a cupboard and the fridge and pulled out the ingredients he needed to make a southwest omelette: Eggs, some butter, ham, onions, peppers and parsley. A normal fourteen year old boy wouldn’t have to be able to exist completely independently of his parents. But Ryan’s situation in life was far from normal. He listened to some music as he prepared and ate his breakfast. Once he had finished, Ryan placed the dirty dishes and cutlery in the dishwasher and then placed a load of laundry in the rarely used washing machine. Ryan’s mother, Lisa, never had the patience to wait the eternity it took the washing machine to clean a load of clothes. She washed everything by hand. It was faster.

Once the chores were done, Ryan took the cookie jar down from the shelf and dipped his hand inside to take some money out. Ryan’s dad wouldn’t allow sweets in the house, instead the cookie jar held a few hundred dollars in cash, just in case it came in handy. Ryan took a roll of fifty dollar bills out and slipped one into his front pocket. He’d have to pay for lunch in school today. He didn’t have time to cook something decent.

He left the apartment and headed for the elevator in the hall. He needed to be at the bus stop in five minutes. The rest of the building was quiet. The other occupants had left at the same time as his parents had. He exited the building and walked to the bus stop. He didn’t have to wait long for a yellow and black school bus to turn the corner and pull up at the kerb. He got on board and nodded in greeting to the driver. The bus was mostly full. Ryan shuffled down the aisle as the bus started moving; several of the other kids were staring at him, wondering who the newcomer was. Ryan continued on down the aisle and spotted an empty seat about half way down the bus. As he approached the boy sitting beside the seat placed his hand to guard the empty space:

“Someone’s already sitting there. Find somewhere else.” The boy said.

Ryan sat down on an empty seat near to the back of the bus, beside a girl who didn’t even look at him as he sat down. She was too busy staring out the window, trying not to catch his eye. The bus sauntered through the early morning traffic and reached its destination: Jimmy Carter Middle School. The doors opened and the bus disgorged its passengers. Ryan followed his new schoolmates out the door and into the school. The place was noisy and warm as friends who hadn’t seen each other in weeks laughed and talked together. Ryan took it all in as he moved slowly down the packed corridor. The School had the usual cliques, the pretty girls hung out with other pretty girls, the sports stars hung out with other sports stars and the quiet kids hung out in small closely knit groups or alone.

It was exactly like Ryan’s last school back in Chicago, except that most people here were much better sun tanned. Ryan followed the signs for the Vice-principal’s office and knocked on the open door.

“Come in.” said a bespectacled woman seated behind a desk.
“Excuse me.” said Ryan. “I’m a new student here.”
“Name?” She responded.
“Ryan Curtis.”
“Ah, Yes.” She said as she ticked a box on a printed list that lay on her desk. She smiled at Ryan: “Are your parents with you?”

“No, they’re busy.”

“Well that’s understandable. I’m Angela Williams. Your home room is number fourteen. Take a right when you leave my office and then take a left. It’s the sixth door on your right. It’s numbered.”

“Thanks.” said Ryan.

“The Vice-principal asked to speak with you when you arrived. He’s in his office, go straight in. I hope you enjoy your time with us Ryan.”

“I hope so too. See you again.”

 

Ryan rapped his knuckles on the open door and entered the Vice-principal’s office.

The Vice-principal’s nameplate on his desk identified him as Mr Stack. He attempted to smile as Ryan walked in, at least, the sides of his mouth curled up slightly and he exposed some teeth.
“Ryan Curtis. It’s nice to meet you. Are your parents here?”
“No. They were called away on business.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, I was really hoping to meet them. Never mind, let’s have a quick chat before you start class. I like to get to know all my students. Connecting with people personally was a value espoused by the man who this institution of learning was named after: Our thirty-ninth and best President.” Mr Stack leaned back in his chair and pointed up at the portrait of President Carter which hung over his desk.

“That’s great.” said Ryan.
“Yes, He was great wasn’t he? I know it’s fashionable for people to mock the man as ineffective in office but he proved them wrong afterwards. Yes he did!”
“I suppose.” said a confused Ryan, this wasn’t how educators were supposed to talk.
“His approach to life informs everything this school strives for. Have you seen our motto? “Attempt to succeed.” Marvellous sentiments, I’m sure you’ll agree.”

“Yes, I definitely do.” Ryan said in an effort to bring the conversation to a close before it became even weirder. “I’d better go to class.”

“Yes.” responded Mr Stack as he stood up to shake Ryan’s hand. “Best of luck.”

Ryan left the office as quickly as was polite. A bell rang, signalling to everyone that they had better get to class instantly. Ryan picked up the pace and got to his new classroom just as the second bell sounded. A desk at the front was the only one still free. He sat down and tucked his bag underneath his desk. He probably had a locker somewhere. He’d ask someone later on. An adult waltzed into the room and stood at the top of the class.

“Good Morning class.” He said with a slight lisp.

“Good Morning sir.” The class chorused in unison.

“Many of you know who I am, I recognise a lot of you from last year. I’m Mr Ridge. English teacher and the nearest thing this school has to a poet. But enough about me; we’ll allow our new classmates introduce themselves. You there!” he said pointing at Ryan. “I don’t know who you are. Tell us about yourself.”

“What would you like to know?” Ryan asked.

“Your name for starters.”

“I’m Ryan Curtis, I moved here nearly a year ago but this is my first time at the school.”

“And what did you do for a year instead of coming to our palace of education?”

“I was…home schooled.”

“And why did you stop?”

“My parents thought it might be a good idea to meet people of my own age. We used to travel a lot because of my parents job but we’re settling down now.”

“Very good. What do your parents do?”

There it was: the question Ryan dreaded. The answer he gave would undoubtedly greatly affect the new few weeks and months of his life.

“They’re involved in law enforcement.”

“Excellent. Who’s next? You there, the blonde girl with the vacant expression!” said Mr Ridge.

Ryan sat back and relaxed. He’d dodged that bullet. He mentally gave himself a pat on the back, saying that his parents worked in law enforcement had been smart. It was partially true and also managed to skirt the issue of what it was they actually did. School life would be difficult enough without letting everyone know on the first day that his parents were Superheroes.

Flare: The Blurb.

In a break from the usual selection of short stories and convention reports, the next few weeks of content are going to focus on my upcoming book. Yes, it's true, I've written a book. It's called "Flare" and it's an action-comedy about superheroes, It's been ready to go since last September and I've spent the last ten months shopping it around to agents and publishers to see if anyone will bite. Despite some decent feedback nobody's bitten on it yet so I've decided to just go ahead and publish the fucker myself via Kindle and createspace. (excuse my French). Over the coming weeks I'll shove up some sample chapters to give you an idea of what I've been working on these past two years (yes, really!). First up, here's the blurb for the back of the book and product description on Amazon. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think.

Flare.

It’s Time for new Heroes.

Ryan Curtis is almost an average teenager. There’s just one small problem: his parents are superheroes.

Ryan just wants to be normal but instead his family life is full of danger, excitement and action, but then the tragic actions of a demented scientist mean he has to go into hiding  

Now he’s being chased across the world by a secret organisation which really wants to harvest his organs. He’s tired, lonely and needs help, but all he has for support is a nineteen year old woman with serious anger management issues and an eccentric Japanese inventor. Now they have to team up, defeat the bad guys and save the world. If only it were that simple.

Over the top action, laugh out loud humour, suspicious people named Jimmy! This book has it all!

If you’ve ever thought: “The world needs a novel where a teenaged girl throws grenades at monsters”, then you’re in for a treat! 

The Party: Part Five. Maura's Bad Trip.

Sean leaned against the doorbell on Paul's house. The bell buzzed. Sean kept up the pressure until Brian was sure that the house was going to shake down to the foundations. Suddenly, Lisa opened the door!
"Lisa, baby!" said Sean, looking the girl up and down. "Nice knees! They new?"
"What are you two doing here?"
"We're here for the party! we brought gifts!" replied Sean, offering Lisa the choice of a six pack of Dutch Gold or a sharing bag of "Doritos".
"Do you seriously think we're going to let you in just because you brought cheap beer and salty snacks?"
"Of course not! I have something else inside my coat pocket. Want to see them?" Sean replied.
He handed the beer and crisps to Brian and pulled out a plastic sandwich bag from his pocket, inside were a dozen yellow pills.
"Are those...you know?"
"Sure!"
"Well, I suppose you can come in then!"
Lisa stepped back and allowed the boys to enter.
"The kitchen is down at the end of the hall. You can put your beer in the fridge."
"Cool! thanks!" said Brian.
Sean and Brian went to the kitchen.
"Dude! You have drugs?"
"Kind of. Pharmaceuticals anyway."
"Where did you get them?"
"The supermarket. They're not actually what Lisa seems to think they are. They're just paracetemol tablets dyed yellow with food dye."
"You told her..."
"No I didn't. She asked: "Are those...you know?" and I, naturally assuming she meant "paracetemol tablets dyed yellow" said "Sure!".
"You're the devil."
"Nah, just motivated to be at this party by any means. Purveying illegal highs, even fabricated ones, gets you into places. Ask Dennis Hopper."
"Who?" asked Brian.
"You need to spend your first term of college watching movies, your lack of pop cultural knowledge dismays me."

Paul surveyed his wardrobe and plotted his outfit for the evening. He had a near infinite number of rugby jerseys and t-shirts but he felt that this evening he needed to be classy! Time to break out one of his proper shirts!
He got dressed in black jeans and a red shirt. Then he slipped on a pair of black trainers.
He walked out of his room and entered his parent's bedroom across the hall. He just needed one more thing to complete his ensemble. His dad's Rolex. It was locked in a drawer on the dressing table beside the bed but Paul knew that the key was sellotaped to the headboard of the bed. Paul reached around the back of the headboard and pulled it free. He used the key on the dresser and reverentially extracted the watch. He opened the case that contained the watch and slipped it on his wrist. Paul left the room and went downstairs, practically stepping on Jeremy as he did so. Paul didn't even notice his friend, who was occupied with silently crying his broken heart out in the gloom of the unlighted hallway..

Jeremy wiped the tears from his eyes and scrambled to his feet. He'd never felt worse. Lisa had torn his soul out with her dismissive treatment of him. Well he was going to show her! He paced down the hallway to the bedrooms and entered the master bedroom. Paul's Dad would have exactly what he needed. Jeremy searched the wardrobes and doors until he found a selection of neck-ties. He took one out and wrapped it around his neck. Then he dragged an armchair which was position beside the window into the centre of the room and climbed on top of it. He tied the other end of the neck-tie to the light fixture in the ceiling and took a deep breath and jumped. It didn't work as intended. Jeremy pulled down the entire ceiling with his as he fell, clumps of plaster and wood showered the room.

Sean walked in on Maura as she lay on the couch of the living room.
"Hey Maura! How are you?"
"Heads killing me! Got into a fight."
"Oh yeah? Here..." said Sean as he took the bag of pills from his pocket. "...have one of these! They'll help."
Maura took two tablets from the bag and put them in her mouth. Sean passed her a can of Dutch Gold. She drank a mouthful and washed the pills down.
"Thanks!" she said gratefully.
"No problem." said Sean as he sat down on the couch beside her, hoping to play the white knight angle to his advantage.
Lisa entered the room and interupted his plans.
"Maura." Lisa said. "Feeling better?"
"Sean gave me some tablets to help with the headache."
"HE GAVE YOU WHAT?" shouted Lisa. "DID YOU GIVE HER SOME OF THE TABLETS FROM THE BAG?!" she roared at Sean.
"Yes...but..." Sean stopped speaking, he didn't want to tell Lisa he'd only brought in paracetemol and whatever she had told herself he had.
"Maura those were yokes!" said Lisa.
"What?
"He just gave you drugs."
Maura sat back on the couch as her mind took in the knowledge that she had ingested an illegal substance.
"I can feel something!" said Maura as she looked at her hand in awe. "My hands are massive and so colourful!" She stood up on the cushion of the couch. "I'm feckin' INVINCIBLE!!!!!!"
She rushed out of the room and battered through the doorway to escape the house.

The Party: Part Four. Lisa and Jeremy's Evening.

"Quit dabbing at the cut over your eye." said Lisa
"It needs stitches." complained Maura.
"It doesn't need stitches; it needs you to stop touching it."
Maura stopped poking ineffectively at the deep scratch on her forehead with the inundated piece of tissue paper. Laura had dug her fingernails right into her face during their brief brawl and now it was peppered with crescent shaped cuts.
The girls approached Paul's house on unsteady feet caused by a combination of too much wine and high heels.
Lisa supported Maura as they walked up the gravel driveway and reached the front door of Paul's house.
Lisa pressed the bell and it sounded. After a few seconds the door opened inwards. Jeremy was standing on the other side.
"Enter! If you dare...mwah ha ha.." Jeremy stopped suddenly, not wanting to look foolish in front of Lisa.
"Help me carry her in." Lisa said by way of greeting.
"Sure." said Jeremy, rushing to help. "What happened? Dog attack?"
"Something like that." hiccupped Maura.
"Is there a couch we can put her on?"
"Through here." said Jeremy.
He led the way through a never ending hallway to a well furnished living room that was bigger than most people's houses.
"Paul's parents own this?" asked Maura.
"No. They're squatters." answered Jeremy.
"Really?" said Maura.
"No. Paul's dad is some kind of Solicitor."
They sat Maura down on the couch.
"Can you get some first aid supplies? We need to do something about those scratches." said Lisa.
"I'll go ask Paul where that stuff is." said Jeremy as he ran out of the room.

Paul was upstairs in his bathroom, carefully shaving what little facial fluff he had. Jeremy knocked on the door.
"What's up?" said Paul.
"Dude! Lisa and Maura are here. I need first aid supplies."
"What did you do to them?"
"Nothing! Maura was attacked by a dog. I think. I need plasters and disinfectant."
Paul put down his razor and fished underneath the sink for the first aid kit. He pulled out the green plastic box and opened the bathroom door. He handed the box to Jeremy and closed the door again.
"Hey! wait!" said Jeremy. "Are you nearly finished. I can't be left alone with Lisa. I might say something stupid!"
"Two minutes and I'll be ready."
"Ok. But no more."
"Fine. Don't panic."
"I'm not panicking!" said Jeremy.
"Sure you're not."
Jeremy ran downstairs with the first aid kit.
Paul turned to his reflection in the mirror and wiped off the remaining shaving foam from his face. He put on some aftershave and sprayed deodorant across his torso and down the front of his trousers. You never knew when it may come in handy.

"I like Jeremy." said an intoxicated Maura. "He's like a puppy. So willing to please."
"I know." said Lisa.
"He's only like that with you. You know that right?"
"I noticed."
"You're not interested?"
"Of course not. God, have you seen him? If he loses a stone and takes up Rugby, I might be interested."
"So superficial."
"At least I'm not hung up on the loser who couldn't dump me fast enough."
"You shut up about my Tommy."
"He's not your Tommy anymore. He's into college girls now."
"You shut your..."
Jeremy re-entered the room at precisely that moment.
"I have the first aid box."
"Great. Patch me up." said Maura.
Jeremy knelt down on the floor and opened the kit. He quickly took a half dozen plasters from a smaller box inside and some anti-bacterial wipes. He cleaned Maura's face with the wipes and applied the plasters.
"Thanks Jeremy." Maura said when he had finished. "Leave me here to sleep a while. The others won't be here for ages yet."
"Sure thing. Do you want to go get a drink Lisa? I got some stuff in the off licence earlier."
"I suppose."
They left Maura to take a nap and headed for the Kitchen. Jeremy went straight for the fridge and took out some bottles. He handed a wine cooler to Lisa and kept a beer for his own consumption.
They opened their bottles and sipped on the drinks.
"I need to say something." said Lisa.
"What?"
"I know...I mean. There's a rumour going around that you...fancy me."
"Oh." was all Jeremy could manage to say.
"Is it true?"
Jeremy spoke slowly and cautiously: "Yeah?"
Lisa didn't speak for a second but then replied: "I'm not...I don't like you in that way."
"Huh. Why not? I'm a good guy."
"I'm sure you are but I need someone...stronger and more...full of life."
"I see...and I'm weak and basically dead?"
"No. You're just not...good...enough...for me."
Jeremy felt as if he had been punched in the stomach and face simultaneously.
"Fine." he said as he turned and exited the Kitchen.
Lisa sat down at the kitchen table and continued to drink as she thought.
There. The hard part is over at least. I think I handled that well. No drama at least.

The front door bell rang. Lisa got up and went to answer it. Sean and Brian stood outside.
Oh Great. What do these fools want?

The Party, Part Three. Lisa and Maura's afternoon.

"I have horrible hair" stated Lisa as she dragged a brush through the hay like substance that grew on the top and sides of her head.
"Shut up. It looks gorgeous!" replied Maura as she applied enough foundation to construct a garden shed.
"It's not as bad as my eyebrows, I'll admit that. I still hate it though. My eyebrows look like two slugs mating. If I could shave them off I would."
"So do it! At least you can do something about it. I have to wear trousers all the time because of my knobbly knees. I can't be seen dead in a short skirt. People would laugh."
"Pass us the bottle, will you?"
Maura did as she was told and handed over the half empty bottle of wine, stolen from her parent's stash mere hours before. Lisa took a swig. They were drinking straight from the bottle so as not to arouse suspicion when dirty glasses were found under the bed or in the sink. They'd sneak the empty bottle out later, hidden under one of their jackets.
"Who's going to Paul's this evening?" Maura asked.
"You, me, Paul, Jeremy, some of the lads from the football team."
"Sounds like a sausage festival."
"Mona and Jean are going as well."
"You mean the one who laughs like a foghorn: MO-NA, MO-NA."
"You've met her then."
"Who else?"
"Laura."
Maura spat out her drink: "That one? You know what she did to me last year?"
Lisa remembered the months of hardship that fhad ollowed the previous May: "Stole Tommy from you."
"Right. She stole my Tommy from me. She's getting her face kicked off her tonight."
"Tommy broke it off with her too, you know. As soon as he left for College he never texted her again."
"Doesn't matter. I have my pride. She's going home with a black eye."
Lisa sighed. Maura had a bit of a temper on her since her Dad left them a few years back. Being abandoned by two separate men had affected her deeply.
Maura took a gulp of wine and moved on to placing eye-shadow in its appropriate position.

An hour later, they were in an appropriate state of readiness to be seen by outsiders.Maura teetered on the brink of falling over due to her oversized stiletto heels.
"I don't know why you're wearing those." said Lisa.
"They emphasise parts of my legs that are not my knees, drawing the eye up all the way."
"That's great. Listen; leave this thing with Laura to one side. It was twelve months ago, that's like...a year ago."
Maura's voice was suddenly shrill: "So what? If she gets away with stealing my man then I’ll look weak. People will laugh."
"No one cares Maura, it's ancient history."
"I care." said Maura and left it at that.

They cut through the park to get to Paul's house. As they walked they spotted Laura and Mona sitting on the grass in the distance. They were sipping from naggins of vodka in the late evening sun. Maura shook off her high heels and scampered across the grass barefoot before Lisa could stop her. Lisa chased her but rage and alcohol had fuelled Maura's hate and legs, despite the knobbly knees.
"Laura Breslin!" Maura roared. "I'm gonna pluck every hair from your head, you'll look like an over ready chicken by the time I get ya!"
Laura heard her coming and scrambled to her feet in a decidedly unladylike fashion. She picked up an empty vodka bottle from the grass and pitched it at Maura. It flew through the air, end over end. Maura ducked and the bottle sailed over her head, nearly hitting Lisa.
Maura accelerated and dived straight at Laura, slamming into her and sending both of them flailing through the air. Maura landed on top of the heap and attempted to strangle her victim. They grappled uselessly on the ground until Mona and Lisa were able to separate them, dragging them off each other.
The two fighters struggled to escape the respective grasps of their friends, all the while screaming unintelligible hatred at each other.
Lisa tugged her friend away from the brawl towards Paul's house. It hadn't started and already this was the worst party ever.