Castle

I just really like this picture...

A message to my loyal readers

This blog post is about your future. And it contains an apology to you.

When I trained as a journalist my tutor would often tell me to re-write my news introductions.

"You need to give your intros more of a hook," He would say.

My intros were always boring. They were boring partly because I didn't want to defraud readers. Because I couldn't easily turn water into wine. I didn't want to write stories which didn't deliver.

First impressions count, not just in the world of business but also in the world of writing. Both in journalism and in creative writing. Especially when it comes to writing for the internet.

So why is this blog post about your future?

It's about your future because, as a reader it will help you to understand the tricks of the writing trade and to think about the attitudes of writers.

What counts, in writing, is how much the writer cares about you. Can you trust them? If the writer cares about you at all then they will learn the skills necessary to engage.

A sign that a writer couldn't care whether you live or die is that their writing will either be bad or full of bull. It will insult your intelligence. The attitude of the writer is what counts. If the writer just wants your money, if the writer is only interested in brinkmanship then sometimes it will show. A sure sign is that the writer is unwilling to learn.

Read what you need to read to survive and hopefully to thrive.

There is so much information and half of it comes from people with an attitude to their readers which is downright offensive. If the people who write what you read don't care about your well-being then refuse to read them. They will get the message.

I'm sorry for not caring as much as I could about you.

The Hollow Statue and Stranded in Eternity

I wanted to write a blog entry about how I came up with the ideas for my latest published short stories.

The Hollow Statue was written as a first draft a long time ago.

I wondered at that time what a society would look like in which everyone had that same blind faith in the authorities. Then I combined this with some apocalyptic themes.

What emerged was not particularly beautiful, but it was honest about my feelings at the time. If I wrote it again I would try to balance the darkness with more light.

The other story, Stranded in Eternity was written over a long period and after many drafts. It began at a writers workshop where everyone was given a first line to use to write a story. My first line was 'He revived with a smile on his face'.

A little while later I went to church and heard a sermon about how indescribable heaven will be. That it would be beyond imagination. So I thought I would try to imagine a version of heaven, beyond the idea of fluffy clouds. I also introduced a few other themes which interested me. And most importantly I selected a Christian as the hero - I did this on purpose because there are so few positive portrayals of Christians.

There was a lot more to the writing of both stories, but this was how they came to be written in the first place. They are written only for readers to enjoy and have no hidden message.

Both stories are available in the science fiction anthology Otherwhere and Elsewhen.

Cross cases: European Court of Human Rights judgement on Nadia Eweida and Shirley Chaplin Jan 15

Christians lose and win their protests at the European Court of Human Rights. 

British Airways employee Nadia Eweida has won her fight at the European Court of Human Rights. But nurse Shirley Chaplin has lost her protest.

Nadia Eweida and Shirley Chaplin were disciplined by British Airways and the NHS respectively for wearing crosses at work.

This is from the press release from the European Court released on Tuesday January 15:


Right to manifest religion at work is protected but must be balanced against rights of others.

In today’s Chamber judgment in the case of Eweida and Others v. the United Kingdom the
European Court of Human Rights held:

by five votes to two, that there had been a violation of Article 9 (freedom of religion) of
the European Convention on Human Rights as concerned Ms Eweida;

unanimously, that there had been no violation of Article 9 of the European Convention,
taken alone or in conjunction with Article 14 (prohibition of discrimination), as
concerned Ms Chaplin

Ms Eweida, a British Airways employee, and Ms Chaplin, a geriatrics nurse, complained that their employers placed restrictions on their visibly wearing Christian crosses around their necks while at work.

The Court did not consider that the lack of explicit protection in UK law to regulate the
wearing of religious clothing and symbols in the workplace in itself meant that the right
to manifest religion was breached, since the issues could be and were considered by the
domestic courts in the context of discrimination claims brought by the applicants.

In Ms Eweida’s case, the Court held that on one side of the scales was Ms Eweida’s
desire to manifest her religious belief. On the other side of the scales was the employer’s
wish to project a certain corporate image. While this aim was undoubtedly legitimate,
the domestic courts accorded it too much weight.

As regards Ms Chaplin, the importance for her to be allowed to bear witness to her
Christian faith by wearing her cross visibly at work weighed heavily in the balance.
However, the reason for asking her to remove the cross, namely the protection of health
and safety on a hospital ward, was inherently more important than that which applied in
respect of Ms Eweida and the hospital managers were well placed to make decisions
about clinical safety.




See my blog entry 'Show 'em Your Cross' for comment on this.

Also see eChurch blog for more comment.

Otherwhere and Elsewhen

Otherwhere and Elsewhen cover

Two of my new short stories have been published by Bridge House. The first is called The Hollow Statue. It is set in a dark future where the Government keeps people firmly under their control. It is a Government who can read minds – free thought is illegal and swiftly punished. The protagonist of the story is a teacher who asks one too many questions. The hollow statue of the title is a technologically advanced statue which has been set up outside an old town hall. Everybody has to assemble before these statues (one in each town) and listen to propaganda. The hero is a rebel, but can he really change anything in the face of such power?

The second story is titled Stranded in Eternity. It began life over ten years ago at a festival when I attended a creative writing workshop. Each of us were given a first line to use as the introduction of a story. Someone gave me this line: “He revived with a smile on his face.” So from there, after many edits the story grew and eventually became a tale about a man who crashes his car on the way home from church and wakes up in heaven. He has to adjust to his new surroundings and encounters a number of surprises. It is my attempt at imagining what heaven could look like. The story contains elements of beauty which I would like to characterize my future writing. It also explores some of the bigger questions in life and isn’t a narrative with a moral message. It is simply a story.

Otherwhere and Elsewhen is available from Amazon through the following link:

Otherwhere and Elsewhen – Amazon

The book costs £3.85p as an eBook.

There are 11 other sci-fi short stories in this anthology and I would feel privileged if you decided to read it.

All the kingdoms of the world for Christmas

I thought that while I have a little spare time before the Xmas celebrations I should write a Christmas blog entry. It's just speculation....

What was the voice of Christ like? How did Jesus tell his stories and parables? Was he expressive when he talked? Did his eyes sparkle?

How did Jesus tell the story of his encounter with the devil in the wilderness? The source of this gospel account, if it is to be believed, could only really have come from one person.  Jesus must have sat his disciples down and told them what happened when he went walkabout in the wilderness.

How do you approach a subject like that?

“You have no idea what happened to me when I was in the wilderness...”

“What happened, Lord?”

“I encountered the devil himself...”

And did Jesus smile?

Or maybe, sitting around a fire one night Jesus waited for his disciples to ask him. That would, perhaps be more in character. A little more enigmatic.

“What happened, Lord, when you were in the wilderness?”

“I tell you the truth – my answer will make your ears tingle...”

Then, as Jesus told the story about how he had been tempted by the devil, how did the disciples react? How would anyone react to something like that? As he told them that the devil had offered him all the kingdoms of the world if he agreed to certain terms.

Perhaps the disciples were afraid of some horrific twist. Were they scared that Jesus had sold out? That he had made some kind of pact with their enemy?

But the source of the account must have come from Christ himself, if it is all true. Imagine you were listening to him telling that story. A story about an encounter with the devil and visions of the world and the way Jesus had resisted the devil. There must have been sighs of relief as he told of how he had refused to give in to corruption.

How would you react to a story like that told by a man like Jesus? Would you have questioned further? Would you have believed it? Would you question if evil personified exists – or if it is some kind of psychological projection from within? Or believed it was some kind of allegory? Or hallucination?

Perhaps we have no opportunity to know what the voice of Jesus was like or how he told his parables and stories. But today, we do have a choice whether to believe those accounts or not.

And if Christ looked straight at you as he finished his account, would his eyes sparkle brighter than all the kingdoms of the world?

The Medusa Kind

I've hastily written a short story for the blog for Halloween this year. As with all my stories it doesn't carry any particular meaning or moral message. I hope you like it....

There are all kinds of darknesses. The fear the four privileged Oxford students felt that Halloween night was real enough. They sat together in a rowing boat surrounded by whispers, winds and shadows.

They were dressed in Halloween costumes and masks fresh from a party. And the boat and the lake had seemed like a good idea after some drinks, despite the cold.

Jason, the unofficial leader of the group, rowed them across the lake. The darkness of the waters seemed to saturate their souls like a chill, like the cold itself. The lake was surrounded by woods, and was much further out than their main university grounds.

And the curtain between worlds was as secure as a shroud (so they felt). The moon, waning, cast her comforting spell of light. It was not the only spell to be cast that night.

The whole atmosphere shifted, like the sudden singing of a lament. Like a turning down of the lights. Helen and Simon, the other two students held each other close.

Zoe, Jason’s girlfriend, screamed suddenly. Across the surface of the lake they all watched as a figure approach them, walking on the water.

"It's a ghost," said Helen, grabbing Simon’s hand.

"There are no ghosts!" replied Jason. Jason didn’t believe in anything supernatural. He believed in logic, reason, Dawkins and hedonism.

But it was a ghost. Of a kind.

Its eyes blazed red, like an old digital clock (something so ancient that it was before even the internet).

For now its head was lowered. But as it approached, the students could see its hair moving like a black nest of snakes.

And when it reached them, the four students wondered how providence, once so kind, could allow what was happening to them to take place.

The ghost spoke to them in a siren-call, like the wild song of a high wind.

"You realize that tonight is Halloween?"

"Of course," replied Jason, turning away instinctively to avoid the red eyes.

"And by taking part in Halloween you are in fact worshiping evil."

Jason spoke up:”There is no devil. And there is no God. They are myths.”

The figure simply stood there, on the dark waters.

Jason continued: “Oh come on, we aren't worshiping evil, we’re just trying to have a laugh."

"A laugh?" whispered the ghost, "Isn't there enough evil in the world already? You are worshiping death and the devil along with the rest of your people. As a result you must be punished for not worshiping the true God. As a result the whole country will be judged, starting with you."

 “So you're a Gorgon type ghost, right?” asked Simon, “And you turn people into stone?”

“Medusa's tribe did that,” said the ghost. “Aren't her offspring allowed to use their imaginations a little? Must it always be stone? Each of us can turn creatures into a different substance. Some can turn them into ruby, emerald or sapphire. Some can turn them into metals, copper, gold and silver. One of us is known to change people into glass.”

All of a sudden the ghost sounded very sad and lonely. It had existed long before Christianity. Wind swept around its snake hair.

“Some are destined to make the hearts of their victims grow so very cold. And this is the source of the evil-eye of folklore.”

Jason was secretly attempting to row away from the whole situation, but the boat was suddenly immovable, as if sin-chains anchored it to the lake floor. Meanwhile Zoe was fumbling for her iphone. She had a plan – if she could select the camera function and reverse the camera then the gorgon-ghost would see its own reflection and be destroyed.

"Wait a minute!" shouted Helen. "At Christmas we meet up and go to the midnight cathedral service and sing hymns! And we do it consciously. So we do worship God. At Halloween we try to have fun but we don't consciously try to worship the devil!"

The ghost smirked. "I'm afraid that doesn't change the way you are," it said.

Zoe found her iphone, pressed the camera app and reversed the view. Then she raised her mobile high. Triumphantly. But suddenly, horribly, the boat shook with a treacherous gust of wind and the iphone fell from Zoe’s hand into the water. They all watched as its dim light was extinguished in the depths like hope dying.

And the ancient ghost lifted its head.

So the land’s judgment began there. The ghost caught the eyes of each student. And each of them felt their blood freeze as their hearts turned as cold as ice and snow. Then, like snowflakes their bodies simply blew away in the pummel of the October wind.

And a further darkness filled the country, like the opening of a Pandora's Box. As if a multitude of furies had been released from storehouses, like snowflakes, each unique. Like an army of cruel ironies, intimate and individual in their messages of death. So that the hearts of the people grew colder.

And the ancient ghost stood in the middle of the darkness and laughed a wild siren-song, knowing that All Saints Day with her gentle mercies would never come.

There are all kinds of darknesses.