Nicholas Bennett's Blog
March 4, 2013
Who needs horror when you've got reality?
All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. You work to live, you don't live to work. Not everything that counts can be counted, to paraphrase Einstein. Yes. I just paraphrased Einstein. I've finally done it. I've disappeared up my own ego. All I can offer by way of explanation is a lack of artificial stimulants. Today it is officially six weeks since I attempted to make smoking a thing of the past and- in order to achieve that- alcohol has gone with it. That- in itself- has been a horror story. Who needs horror when you've got reality? Not to mention work. Give me a classroom full of kids and I'm alright. Just keep me away from the staff room. When I was a kid, it was a world glimpsed through a crack in the door when I was planted outside the staff room for telling Mr. Whoever to go and whatever. A smoky room filled with teachers transformed for a lunch hour in to human beings who smoked a lot. You see? I'm back on smoking again. The weed winds its insidious way in to the psyche and presents itself just around the corner of every trailing thought. Perhaps that's the real beast, after all. All of which brings me to my latest short story.
As suggested in my previous blog, a short story was knocking on the door as a result of a pair of prankster friends from junior school days. It’s done now. I wrote The Beast in two sittings because the whole thing was just there- in my head- from the outset. Therefore it was difficult to mess around with the original idea. I hope that you enjoy it. The blurb and a link follows…
The Beast
It had been an excellent trick.
The new kid had fallen for it with an ease that had even surprised experienced pranksters Richie and Charlie. But not all surprises turn out for the best especially when kids are going missing. Even so- it was irresistible…the infectious nature of the mythical beast- a beast that hides in the childish fantasies of playgrounds the world over. So when new kid Andy takes the bait and begins to not only believe but further embellish upon Richie and Charlie’s stories of The Beast, who could have known that something dark would be born?
In the short story, The Beast, Nicholas Bennett tells the story of what can happen to naughty little boys when they mess around with the power of imagination.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BNYSCFW
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B0GHIWQThe River Dark
As suggested in my previous blog, a short story was knocking on the door as a result of a pair of prankster friends from junior school days. It’s done now. I wrote The Beast in two sittings because the whole thing was just there- in my head- from the outset. Therefore it was difficult to mess around with the original idea. I hope that you enjoy it. The blurb and a link follows…
The Beast
It had been an excellent trick.
The new kid had fallen for it with an ease that had even surprised experienced pranksters Richie and Charlie. But not all surprises turn out for the best especially when kids are going missing. Even so- it was irresistible…the infectious nature of the mythical beast- a beast that hides in the childish fantasies of playgrounds the world over. So when new kid Andy takes the bait and begins to not only believe but further embellish upon Richie and Charlie’s stories of The Beast, who could have known that something dark would be born?
In the short story, The Beast, Nicholas Bennett tells the story of what can happen to naughty little boys when they mess around with the power of imagination.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00BNYSCFW
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B0GHIWQThe River Dark
February 16, 2013
The Fear and The Beast
THE FEAR
It's a weird thing trying to get people to read your work. There was a time- not too long ago- in which I was more than a little hesitant when it came to giving someone something of mine to read; gripped by the fear of the unknown review, the unpredictability of opinion. Various things would cross my mind including THE FEAR that they would think that my writing is crap (maybe it is- Oh no, here I go again) or THE FEAR that they would gain an insight in to an imagination that I have always considered to be rather warped. (There is a passage in The River Dark involving a psychiatric ward and an eye that made my wife regard me with quiet disgust and she knows me better than anyone). However, things have changed over recent weeks. Not to say that THE FEAR of negative feedback has gone- that would be a lie- a big lie in fact- but it has lessened somewhat.
But the paradox exists in the fact that writing is- by its nature- an intensely private affair and no matter how many times I try to focus on writing for an audience, it's really me that I'm trying to impress. I haven't managed to do that yet. I don't suppose any one really has. That's the nature of the beast, I guess- which leads me neatly on to the subject of a short story that's been bouncing around my head for a day or two.
THE BEAST
When I was a kid (of no more than 9, I would say), I was led to believe that there was a beast that lived on the waste ground/refuse site beyond the hedged boundary of our school playing field. The mischievous authors of this fiction created a playground myth of such persuasive invention that we all wanted a part in it. With my fertile imagination, I had no chance. Not only did I believe in the existence of this creature that was part daemon (it was a Catholic school)/part Yeti/part alien from Space 1999 but I also added a significant amount of descriptive detail to the beast's face not to mention some local legends passed down by word-of-mouth in the oral tradition of I'm making this up as I'm going along. Looking back, I find it charming- the childish propensity for mystery, for wanting the unexplained to be real- even if it did have big teeth and razor-sharp claws. But I also remember the way that the mischievous originators of the mythical beast tortured me ruthlessly for not only believing their fiction but actively supporting it. But- hey- that's kids for you. Still... There is a part of me that wanted that beast to be real and perhaps to have paid a certain pair of nine-year old boys a visit one stormy winter night...
Look out for The Beast by Nicholas Bennett. It will be on Kindle and at Goodreads for free soon in the next few days. In the meantime check out my other available works.
The River Dark
It's a weird thing trying to get people to read your work. There was a time- not too long ago- in which I was more than a little hesitant when it came to giving someone something of mine to read; gripped by the fear of the unknown review, the unpredictability of opinion. Various things would cross my mind including THE FEAR that they would think that my writing is crap (maybe it is- Oh no, here I go again) or THE FEAR that they would gain an insight in to an imagination that I have always considered to be rather warped. (There is a passage in The River Dark involving a psychiatric ward and an eye that made my wife regard me with quiet disgust and she knows me better than anyone). However, things have changed over recent weeks. Not to say that THE FEAR of negative feedback has gone- that would be a lie- a big lie in fact- but it has lessened somewhat.
But the paradox exists in the fact that writing is- by its nature- an intensely private affair and no matter how many times I try to focus on writing for an audience, it's really me that I'm trying to impress. I haven't managed to do that yet. I don't suppose any one really has. That's the nature of the beast, I guess- which leads me neatly on to the subject of a short story that's been bouncing around my head for a day or two.
THE BEAST
When I was a kid (of no more than 9, I would say), I was led to believe that there was a beast that lived on the waste ground/refuse site beyond the hedged boundary of our school playing field. The mischievous authors of this fiction created a playground myth of such persuasive invention that we all wanted a part in it. With my fertile imagination, I had no chance. Not only did I believe in the existence of this creature that was part daemon (it was a Catholic school)/part Yeti/part alien from Space 1999 but I also added a significant amount of descriptive detail to the beast's face not to mention some local legends passed down by word-of-mouth in the oral tradition of I'm making this up as I'm going along. Looking back, I find it charming- the childish propensity for mystery, for wanting the unexplained to be real- even if it did have big teeth and razor-sharp claws. But I also remember the way that the mischievous originators of the mythical beast tortured me ruthlessly for not only believing their fiction but actively supporting it. But- hey- that's kids for you. Still... There is a part of me that wanted that beast to be real and perhaps to have paid a certain pair of nine-year old boys a visit one stormy winter night...
Look out for The Beast by Nicholas Bennett. It will be on Kindle and at Goodreads for free soon in the next few days. In the meantime check out my other available works.
The River Dark
January 30, 2013
Homage to the Masters
Homage to the Masters
I hadn’t written a short story for a long time when I sat down with the idea forming for the story that eventually became Followers. I don’t know why. I’ve been messing around with ideas for novels and novellas for years and even written a play or two (that will never see light of day, I’m sure) but I’ve neglected the short story for years. The last one I wrote was called The Seething Walls of Madness and owed a great deal to the Science Fiction writers I loved most- Philip K. Dick and Ray Bradbury. I’m not claiming that it had that kind of quality. It was pretty bad, I’m sure. What I mean is- it owed a great deal in terms of ideas. Not plagiarism as such. Poor imitation at best. But that was a long time ago, back in the days when I was clunking away on a manual type-writer. So when the idea for Followers occurred, I was pleased and a little nervous because the story suggested itself to me in the short form.
From the outset, I had the nineteenth century buzz. That is, it just had to be a story within a story, told in the oral tradition complete with haunted narrator, sceptical listener (who, of course, faithfully relates the details of the story to reader), a fire-side setting and some good old-fashioned scary bits. I had story-tellers like Thomas Hardy (The Dream Woman or The Ostler’s Tale depending on where you read it), Dickens (The Signal-Man) and a whole host of others floating around my mind as I began- not to mention the pressures of style geniuses like H.P. Lovecraft when considering first-person narrative and the unexpected (or obvious, depending on your opinion) twist in the final stages of the tale. How could any one compete with Lovecraft’s The Outsider for building the tension towards a horrific surprise in the final page? If you haven’t read it, give it a go. Writing the story and then this has given me a taste for it. I’ve decided to spend some time with a couple of old short story collections that I’ve picked up over the years: M.R. James- Collected Ghost Stories; Great Tales of Terror and the Supernatural and The Mammoth Book of Thrillers, Ghosts and Mysteries. As well as this, I’ve been thumbing through a Lovecraft collection, The Haunter of the Dark and other stories. In short, if I’m to continue writing in the genre that I have always loved, I need to do my homework.
I hope that you enjoy my short story. It will be available for free on Kindle and I will also put it on Goodreads.
Nick Bennett. 29th January 2013
I hadn’t written a short story for a long time when I sat down with the idea forming for the story that eventually became Followers. I don’t know why. I’ve been messing around with ideas for novels and novellas for years and even written a play or two (that will never see light of day, I’m sure) but I’ve neglected the short story for years. The last one I wrote was called The Seething Walls of Madness and owed a great deal to the Science Fiction writers I loved most- Philip K. Dick and Ray Bradbury. I’m not claiming that it had that kind of quality. It was pretty bad, I’m sure. What I mean is- it owed a great deal in terms of ideas. Not plagiarism as such. Poor imitation at best. But that was a long time ago, back in the days when I was clunking away on a manual type-writer. So when the idea for Followers occurred, I was pleased and a little nervous because the story suggested itself to me in the short form.
From the outset, I had the nineteenth century buzz. That is, it just had to be a story within a story, told in the oral tradition complete with haunted narrator, sceptical listener (who, of course, faithfully relates the details of the story to reader), a fire-side setting and some good old-fashioned scary bits. I had story-tellers like Thomas Hardy (The Dream Woman or The Ostler’s Tale depending on where you read it), Dickens (The Signal-Man) and a whole host of others floating around my mind as I began- not to mention the pressures of style geniuses like H.P. Lovecraft when considering first-person narrative and the unexpected (or obvious, depending on your opinion) twist in the final stages of the tale. How could any one compete with Lovecraft’s The Outsider for building the tension towards a horrific surprise in the final page? If you haven’t read it, give it a go. Writing the story and then this has given me a taste for it. I’ve decided to spend some time with a couple of old short story collections that I’ve picked up over the years: M.R. James- Collected Ghost Stories; Great Tales of Terror and the Supernatural and The Mammoth Book of Thrillers, Ghosts and Mysteries. As well as this, I’ve been thumbing through a Lovecraft collection, The Haunter of the Dark and other stories. In short, if I’m to continue writing in the genre that I have always loved, I need to do my homework.
I hope that you enjoy my short story. It will be available for free on Kindle and I will also put it on Goodreads.
Nick Bennett. 29th January 2013
January 22, 2013
Admitting to Being a Writer
For anyone with an interest in the struggles of a new writer...
There's no going back now. I took the plunge. After years of telling myself and others that I was a writer in embryo and that it was only a matter of time until the day came when the world realised that I was the next BIG THING... The River Dark is my first novel for mass consumption. Writing isn't new for me though. I've written short stories, poems, two plays and lyrics to songs accompanied by my music (usually in E minor- the saddest chord they say). The idea for the book came to me some years ago when watching footage of the latest floods in England. I lived in Egypt at the time and, on homesick days, I often took solace in BBC World or found myself following strands of home news on the Internet. The image that stood out for me was that of a bridge- mostly submerged by the flood waters- and of a caravan speeding towards the bridge where it would smash and crumple against the ancient bridge-work like a rusty old tin can- some poor soul's life represented by paper work, clothing and whatever else that people have, floating on the swell for the world media to see like so much flotsam and jetsam. At the same time I would hear stories of those with a seeming lack of empathy preying on the misfortune of others- looting, breaking in to vulnerable property and worse (think of the gangs of men attacking prone females in Haiti after that particular catastrophe). Somehow the story evolved from there- from a combination of the destructive power of Nature and Man's innate capacity for perpetrating evil. So I wrote the book... I was lucky enough to get it on to a publisher's desk but back it came with suggestions. Some good suggestions, too. I acted upon them and sent it on back. This time it just came back. Thanks but no thanks. To their credit though, the comments that they made were very encouraging. Time passed. Two years in France, two years in Thailand. Life got in the way for a while. So now I find myself back in England and I'm writing again. Something new about a boy with a special gift.
Nick Bennett
"The River Dark" is on Kindle.
There's no going back now. I took the plunge. After years of telling myself and others that I was a writer in embryo and that it was only a matter of time until the day came when the world realised that I was the next BIG THING... The River Dark is my first novel for mass consumption. Writing isn't new for me though. I've written short stories, poems, two plays and lyrics to songs accompanied by my music (usually in E minor- the saddest chord they say). The idea for the book came to me some years ago when watching footage of the latest floods in England. I lived in Egypt at the time and, on homesick days, I often took solace in BBC World or found myself following strands of home news on the Internet. The image that stood out for me was that of a bridge- mostly submerged by the flood waters- and of a caravan speeding towards the bridge where it would smash and crumple against the ancient bridge-work like a rusty old tin can- some poor soul's life represented by paper work, clothing and whatever else that people have, floating on the swell for the world media to see like so much flotsam and jetsam. At the same time I would hear stories of those with a seeming lack of empathy preying on the misfortune of others- looting, breaking in to vulnerable property and worse (think of the gangs of men attacking prone females in Haiti after that particular catastrophe). Somehow the story evolved from there- from a combination of the destructive power of Nature and Man's innate capacity for perpetrating evil. So I wrote the book... I was lucky enough to get it on to a publisher's desk but back it came with suggestions. Some good suggestions, too. I acted upon them and sent it on back. This time it just came back. Thanks but no thanks. To their credit though, the comments that they made were very encouraging. Time passed. Two years in France, two years in Thailand. Life got in the way for a while. So now I find myself back in England and I'm writing again. Something new about a boy with a special gift.
Nick Bennett
"The River Dark" is on Kindle.
