Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Culture Night @ The Irish Writers' Centre

Culture Night happens once a year in Dublin - museums and cultural attractions stay open late, run cool events and everything is free. It's one of my favourite nights of the year. The streets have a real carnival atmosphere, but unusually for Dublin, almost everyone is sober. Except for that guy who is yelling (in Dublin, there is almost always a guy who is yelling, especially if you're on O'Connell Street).

This year it rained, so I spent less time wandering the streets aimlessly thinking happy thoughts, and more time closeted away consuming sugar. I hit the city centre at 7.30, registered for the Open Mic at the Irish Writers' Centre, then grabbed dinner and squeezed in a visit to the Dublin Writers' Museum (next door to the IWC) and the Hugh Lane Gallery before heading back to listen to the other readers and sweat quietly until it was my turn.

The Dublin Writers' Museum

Poet Dave Lordan was MC for the night and there was an interesting range of material  - stand up comedy about materialistic fish, a Gothic short story about an abduction and murder in 1970s America, poetry and prose. One attendee read a piece from his friend's novel - his friend is an American Hibernophile who was apparently thrilled to think his work had been read in Ireland. Louise Phillips read from her newly released thriller, Last Kiss, which features a female serial killer with a . . . unique take on the world.

Then there was me. I read the following piece, which is the intro to a novel I'm working on called The Soldiers of Bruges (STATUS: first draft finished, second draft looking less fun than root canal).

Soldiers of Bruges

The best way to explain about my dad is to tell you a story that my brother Luke told me. 

I don’t remember this, but one Sunday in 1997 my Dad made pancakes. When Dad made breakfast, he insisted that he got to choose what everyone watched on TV, so he switched on one of the news channels. Luke didn't remember which one. 

Across the bottom of the screen it said 'Diana, Princess of Wales, dies in Paris car crash'. 

“You should have seen his face, Sasha,” Luke said to me. “He didn’t go white. He went grey.” 

Dad slowly put his knife and fork down and reached for the cordless phone. Luke remembers that he only had to punch one number before the muffled sound of another phone ringing came from the receiver. 

"Michael. . ." Dad said. "Was that us?" 

When he put down the phone, Mum's face had gone all frozen. She did that when she got annoyed – it's one of the things I remember about her. She looked at Dad and said “Well?” in this cold voice she had. 

Dad shook his head. “No,” he said. “It wasn't the Soldiers of Bruges. All signs point to a regular, run-of-the-mill car crash.” 

Luke said Mum's face didn't unfreeze for a little while. Even when she knew the Soldiers of Bruges weren't responsible, the moment of suspicion had been a lot for her to take. She was a big fan of Diana – maybe because she was another woman who married into an impossible dynasty.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

Guest Post: The Streets of New York, Paul Anthony Shortt: Memory War blog tour

Guys, I've been following my friend Paul Anthony Shortt's writing journey since Facebook was not yet a thing and dinosaurs roamed the Earth, so it's a real honour to feature him on the blog today as he promotes his latest novel and the final instalment of his debut trilogy, Memory War. Memory War is set in New York, Paul's favourite city, and it seems fitting for him to talk about the city, its role in the life of his protagonist and its unique soul, on the anniversary of the day when all the world's eyes turned to New York and its heroes. All yours, Paul - Ellen.

Paul at the launch of the first instalment of his debut trilogy

The Streets of New York 

Cities breathe. They have a pulse. People are their lifeblood and the streets rise and swell with the tide of life running through them. New York exemplifies this. I've been there twice, and each time it was all I could do to not get swept along in the wake of the city's rhythm.

New York is built for pedestrians. No New Yorker with any sense drives their own car. Certainly not in Manhattan, anyway. The ease with which Nathan gets his truck around the city is an artistic liberty I take, because you just can't have an action hero who has to get a cab everywhere. If you can get your pace in sync with everything else, you could walk from one end of Manhattan to the other, hardly stopping. You wouldn't want to, though, because that's a lot of walking! It's easy to forget, looking at a map, just how large New York is.

The streets of the city are important in The Memory Wars Trilogy. Nathan spends a lot of time patrolling, or simply wandering, and he keeps his perspective firmly on street-level. He's among the people he protects, seeing what they see, making sure they realise he's there to watch over them and fight for them. This contrasts to the Council of Chains, whose leaders rule from skyscrapers, sending out their agents to hunt the streets on their behalf. It's that direct connection that allows Nathan to feel his city breathe, and enables him to be guided by the city to where it needs him to go.
If you want to see how much of a melting pot New York is, the streets are where to do it. People of every walk of life, every belief and ethnic background, all walk the same streets. Stand in one spot (out of everyone's way, of course) and you'll see the world pass you by. There's hardly a piece of humanity not represented in New York, which is what makes it such a potent setting for Memory War. In this book, the odds are stacked against Nathan, and the stakes are higher than ever before. New York stands not just for Nathan's territory, but the world itself, and all of humanity. 

As Morrigan and Athamar bring their forces to bear, so too must Nathan rally his allies, and take the lead. Not just as the commander of the Conclave, but as a symbol for what the reborn can become, of the good they can do. New York, and the world, will look to him and Elena for salvation, but even with the strength of the city behind them, there are some battles no-one can help them with.

Even in the streets of New York, a hero must sometimes stand alone, and meet their fate.


A child at heart who turned to writing and roleplaying games when there simply weren’t enough action figures to play out the stories he wanted, Paul Anthony Shortt has been writing all his life.

Growing up surrounded by music, film and theatre gave him a deep love of all forms of storytelling, each teaching him something new he could use. When not playing with the people in his head, he enjoys cooking and regular meet-ups with his gaming group.

He lives in Ireland with his wife Jen and their dogs, Pepper and Jasper. Their first child, Conor William Henry Shortt, was born on July 11th, 2011. He passed away three days later, but brought love and joy into their lives and those of their friends.

The following year, Jen gave birth to twins, Amy and Erica. Their fourth child, Olivia, was born in January, 2014.

About Memory War:
War is coming to New York. Nathan Shepherd's growing band of followers is dedicated to protecting the city, but they now face their greatest threat.

Athamar returns, plunging the city into chaos. Uniting the forces of darkness against Nathan and his allies, Athamar strives to discover a secret hidden for thousands of years. A secret lost to Nathan's memories. Something so dangerous, even the gods themselves fear it.

Nathan and Elena were once the greatest of heroes, champions against evil. Now, haunted by Nathan's past-life betrayal, they must work together and brave the pain of long-buried lifetimes. Somewhere, locked within their former incarnations, lies the key to stopping Athamar, an enemy who has hunted them from one incarnation to the next.

As the city burns and innocents suffer, as heroes fall and hope dies, Nathan and Elena face their final battle, a battle where legends will be reborn.

Paul Anthony Shortt
Website: http://paulanthonyshortt.blogspot.com/
Twitter: @PAShortt