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Showing posts with label Aleister Crowley. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aleister Crowley. Show all posts

Thursday, 12 November 2020

WRITER'S BLOCK? WHAT BLOCK

 WRITER'S BLOCK

WHAT WRITER'S BLOCK?

A bit of a tongue in cheek title for this blogpost as I don't actually suffer from writer's block. Words have never been a problem for me. Probably as a result of being 5/8ths Irish - yes really. Plus my mother kissed the Blarney Stone. (I went to Blarney Castle a few years ago but as I suffer from vertigo, there was no way I was going to lean over backwards to kiss it, so the gift of the gab must have come from her.)


However, when I'm writing I sometimes come to a point where I'm not sure how the narrative should progress or in which direction to take it.

I learned a valuable lesson, many moons ago, in a different life, when I was ceramic designer. Then, being young and headstrong, I thought that if I just ploughed on doggedly, when stuck, something would come out of it. I soon learned it was completely the wrong approach. If I did this, whatever I produced would be either absolute rubbish or things would just keep on going wrong. But if I left the problem alone and did something totally different for a while, when I returned to it things seemed to work out. (I will admit that the something different might involve alcohol, but as I said, I was much younger then.)


These days, now that I'm older and wiser (!) I have a different approach. I put the writing aside and take myself and Aggie for a long walk, usually on the beach. Something about the openness of the landscape or the fresh air or the lack of distractions, helps to clear my mind. Then, the plot, or characters, become clearer, and I return home refreshed, knowing the direction the story is going to take. 


I also treated myself to a drum kit, when I reached a recent milestone birthday, and the discipline of concentrating on keeping time is another good distraction.


Sunday, 16 August 2020

TELLING A TALE - Story settings

 TELLING A TALE

STORY SETTINGS



I think it's really important to describe the settings in the stories I write. I like to paint a word picture so the reader can fully imagine the location where the action is taking place. In Blood on the Tide, a WWII bomb is retrieved from the mud at Compass Point (Rye Harbour). I tried hard to describe the concern of the soldiers as they sweated to get it out, while watching the tide gradually roll in.


In Blood on the Shrine, DI Sonny Russell is sent to a Buddhist retreat, almost as a joke by superintendent Vic Stout. But Russell is much more spiritual than his boss realises and delights in being there. I drew on my own, not insignificant experiences, of Buddhism to describe the peace and serenity encountered at a retreat.





The story in Blood on the Strand revolves around gold and silver valuables that were stolen towards the end of WWII. The net shops in Hastings play a large part in the story. I wanted to recreated the sight and smells of these iconic buildings and the surrounding fishermen's beach.


In the fourth DI Sonny Russell mystery the occult and fortune tellers come to the fore. During my research I was delighted to discover that the occultist Aleister Crowley, once named 'the wickedest man in the world', ended his days in a nursing home in Hastings. I described a visit made made by Septimus Pike, a sinister antique dealer, to the infamous character and the sad situation he finished up in.


My current work in progress, book five in the series, begins with an investigation into the disappearance of two characters. Quite a lot of the action takes place at a grand manor house, named Sowsden Manor in my story. But, it's actually based on a place I know well - but I'm not telling!













Sunday, 29 March 2020

AUTHOR AUTHOR!

AUTHOR AUTHOR!

Fishermen's rail track and hut - Dungeness

You'd think that in these straightened times I'd be cracking on with writing the next instalment of the adventures of DI Sonny Russell and his loyal terrier, Aggie. Well I should be. But... some sort of ennui has set in and, in the evening, when I'd normally lounge on the sofa with the laptop, I seem to be gorging on crime dramas on Netflix or BBC iPlayer. I doesn't mean that I'm not thinking about writing - I am - it's just that I'm not actually doing it although I have started.

Old bridge over the Royal Military Canal at Appledore

But that's part of the problem. I've started not one, but two books. One, provisionally titled BLOOD IN THE GARDEN, is planned to be the fifth in the DI Russell series set in the 1950s. The other, THE WRONG CAR, is my attempt at writing a contemporary story, more in keeping with the current trend for grittier, up to the minute writing. My dilemma, as well as a general laziness, is choosing which one to continue with. 

Netherwood House, Hastings
Last home of Aleister Crowley

I seem to be developing a following for my 1950s series and have sold 1/4 of the first print run of my new novel, BLOOD ON THE CARDS, plus the kindle sales have been encouraging. So perhaps I should stick to this and trust that the momentum continues. However, like most writers, I would like to sell more books and wonder if I should be writing in a style that's currently in vogue.


Suggestions would be gratefully received. The photos I've used above are from scenes in BLOOD ON THE CARDS which is available from me or on Amazon.










  

Sunday, 15 March 2020

ALEISTER CROWLEY & CONSPIRACIES

ALEISTER CROWLEY & CONSPIRACIES

Aleister Crowley 1912

In BLOOD ON THE CARDS*, the fourth in my DI Sonny Russell crime novel series, one of the characters recalls meeting Aleister Crowley.

 Russell opened the book again. On the frontispiece he read, “Illustrated by Lady Frieda Harris”. ‘Golly’ was that her? A real lady.’
‘She certainly was. We got chatting and she confided in me. She’d been friends with Crowley for years, apparently. As far as I could make out she was some sort of disciple and had followed his teachings on something called, I think, Thelema. Some mumbo jumbo, anyway. He had come to live in Hastings - she’d heard he was ill and had travelled down from London to check on him. Apparently he was dirty and neglected so she arranged for a nurse to look after him. Anyway, she asked if I was interested in old books. I wasn’t going to turn down a chance to meet him so I said yes. He was in lodgings at Netherwood House on The Ridge in Hastings and I visited him there.’
‘What was he like?’
‘He was an old man by then. Early seventies, I think. He wasn’t well, coughed a lot and looked pale and drawn. I understood he was addicted to heroin. But there was something in his eyes. I don’t know, a darkness or something. His room was number 13…’
‘Of course.’
Pike nodded. ‘Despite being near the end he still had a huge presence.’
‘What did you talk about?’
‘Nothing of consequence, as I recall. Chess – he was member of the local club; hadn’t ever been beaten, apparently. The weather – he found the climate in the South good for his bronchitis. Lady Frieda showed me some books that he wanted to sell. They were old but there was nothing particularly special so I offered a few shillings, which she seemed happy to accept.’
‘Is that how you came by this?’ Russell tapped the book.
‘Oh no.’ Pike leaned forward, his eyes sparkling. ‘He gave it to me.’
‘How come?’
‘Before I left, I went over to say goodbye – he was sitting in a large wing chair. He grabbed hold of my hand – almost pulled me on top of him. I was amazed at his strength – he looked so feeble. He stared into my eyes. I can’t tell you how it felt. Creepy I suppose. Strangely compelling. Then he relaxed his grip and said: “You must have this,” and gave me the book. I heard that he died not long after.’
‘Is he buried somewhere nearby?’
‘No, no. The people of Hastings thought he was evil so he was cremated in Brighton.’

I became interested in him and his influence and did quite a bit of research about him - what I believe they call in university, reading around the subject. Although he died in 1947, he fascinated many who followed including Jimmy Page of the band Led Zeppelin.


Jimmy Page with twin-necked Gibson

In 1969 he became intrigued by Crowley and his cult Thelema. So much so that it is rumoured that two of the occultist's sayings, Do As Thou Wilt and So Mote It Be are carved into the outro tracks on the vinyl recording of Led Zeppelin III. He became even more involved as evinced in the next album, Led Zeppelin IV, where the band members are represented by magic symbols in the inner cover.

Led Zeppelin IV

Page collaborated with a filmmaker, Kenneth Anger, who practiced 'Magick' as set out by Crowley. Later the two fell out and Anger was said to have put a curse on the band. Not long after singer, Robert Plant and his family were nearly killed when their car went over a cliff in Greece, causing them to cancel the rest of the band's tour they were on. In 1977 Plant's son died. Page didn't attend the funeral which almost caused the break-up of the band. 

The Beatles - Abbey Road

I watched an interview with Jimmy Page. Hesaid Zep weren't the only band to be affected with conspiracies. On November 9th 1966 a rumour spread that Paul McCartney was dead and had been replaced by someone who had won a lookalike competition, know as Billy Shears. (Billy Shears is also mentioned in the opening to 'A Little Help from My Friends' on the Sergeant Pepper album.) Absolute rubbish, of course, but the rumour spread and stayed for a long time. It gained more traction when the wonderful abbey Road Album came out and featured the Beatles crossing the road outside the recording studio and Paul is pictured barefoot. Even before that on the track, Glass Onion on the White Album John Lennon sings, ‘here’s another clue for you all, The Walrus is Paul’.


BLOOD ON THE CARDS is currently with the printer and will we available soon.




















Tuesday, 25 February 2020

CHEERY PICS

CHEERY PICS

As the rain hammers down on the studio roof I thought I'd post a few more of my 'arty' pictures from a cheerier times.