Monday, 25 September 2017


Small extract from my 3rd Thin Places Novella, which is almost complete. Then the delightful task of proof reading. Thankfully, I have the two best proof readers to give me a dig out. 
Gina&Grainne Inc.

This Novella is a little darker than 'Fanore' and 'Erris' 
Chapter 3 begins in Autumn.

It’s not possible for Autumn to finish as it starts because destiny decreed that it be born in summer and die in winter. It is looking at Spring in the mirror, which simply reverses life and death. Transitions from one state to its opposite must by definition be dramatic but the opening act of every drama will first introduce us to subtlety. With the stage thus set, metamorphosis can quickly accelerate to its point of no return.

The first sign of summer becoming winter begins when nature reaches into her fashionably well-worn artist’s satchel to squeeze a tube of Sepia onto the palette. Like the software written into a digital filter, the landscape becomes tinged with soft earthy yellow to produce the kind of warm and comfortable ambience that seems to make everyone more likely to smile. The mystery for this unexpected geniality is the undeniable fact that the only thing better than looking fondly at an old photograph, is finding that you are living in one.

This pleasant ambience becomes particularly noticeable when the air is full of moisture, just as it was in Dunquin that morning. The only truly unusual aspect was the almost total calm at high tide. A state of no-breeze on this temperate Atlantic Coast is virtually unheard of, and it only added to the overall ‘halcyon’ perception of the morning. 

Jack Sullivan smelled the distinct possibility of an isolated thunderstorm later that afternoon, but he didn’t care. Despite having one too many twelve year old whiskeys, he’d slept like a baby and was feeling just fine. The hazy sunshine proved to be a potent antibiotic for the malady of an oppressive melancholy that had only threatened to deepen over the last few days. Depression was once something that he associated only with the weather but in Ireland, it could be something far more prevalent and scary. 

Thursday, 20 July 2017

Blasket - Book 3 of my 'Thin Places' Series takes shape.

PROLOGUE (Subject to change and perfection)

Superlatives are what first comes to mind when we stumble upon ‘Thin Places’. Labels like ‘pristine and pure’, and also ‘mysteriously magnetic’ will underline the fact that these are much more than the usual tourist hotspots. But they are also likely to be far less because they don’t suffer the associated contamination. That means no three or four star hotels, no sun-loungers, no water-worlds or gaudy monuments. There will invariably be lots of history, though not necessarily the documented versions and anyway, history is probably the last thing that will strike us, but it will.
Anyone who has ever been drawn to a timeless oasis in this world on steroids can expect to be particularly susceptible to their seductive charms. There is however, an often darker aspect hidden behind their beautiful veneers which must, of necessity manifest itself to someone at sometime. This manifestation will come only to those who use a gift from evolution that many of us don’t realise we possess.
The thing is, human evolution never stopped. It continues to enhance us mentally, just as it does physically and biologically. One of our most notable, if not so recent mental enhancements goes back in time a little. It was called the ‘Third Eye’ by some older civilisations, who considered it a somewhat mystical facility. I prefer to call it our ‘Thinking eye’ and I’m guessing it was only considered mystical because, in those darker times, not everyone was enlightened enough to know that evolution never had a favourite child. You and I both know that any attribute, like muscles for example, will atrophy if we don’t exercise them. 
Eyes are the same in that regard and there is no reason to think our inner eye will be any different. Anyone who has spent time developing their additional sense can expect to see far more than those who merely gape. In my own experience, anyone who uses it regularly, will most likely find it more effective with eyes closed to filter out purely physical distractions.
Evolved people will be the first to see a ‘Thin Place’ for what it really is and just like the rest of humanity, they will be naturally curious. The same sense of timelessness that all ‘Thin Places’ exude becomes an intoxicating fragrance that they can’t resist. However, this opium to our sixth sense is not just a bait that attracts unwitting witnesses. It is also the catalyst that expands the perceptive power of our ‘Thinking Eye’ which can then see even further. Like a suddenly resolved three dimensional stereogram or a revelation if you like, ‘Thin Places’ become exposed. We can then see them for what they really are and peer not at them but through them. They are portals, or porous mirrors through which both history and/or the predestined future can be sensed, visualised, smelled and even tasted, like déja vu.
Thus intoxicated, a fully evolved person is more than capable of accepting that silent invitation to delve deeper, to see and maybe even touch, or experience something of what might be hidden from everyone else. However, if one of us can see and touch other dimensions of our extended reality, then it follows that whoever or whatever is out, or in there, can reciprocate and reach back to us.
When we talk about timelessness, we need a better understanding of what time really is. Despite what we have been conditioned to think, time was never the simple ticking of seconds or the passing of hours. It is a very variable and dynamic measure of life until ultimate death, but that’s not to say there is no life after death. Time is merely the cycle by which a physical aspect is first removed and then reunited with the parallel metaphysical reality that is our constant companion, running closely and perpetually alongside us. Furthermore, if life until death is one physical cycle, then it can never be the same for everyone or everything, regardless of how clever we think we are by breaking it down into standard minutes.
The Blasket Islands are a ‘Thin Place’ but with the significant difference that destiny seems to have assigned them a more passive role in history. They have seen tragedy, but nothing that was judged more than a tragic footnote in an otherwise simple existence. Indeed, their greatest claim to fame may have been their gift to us of writers whose innocent offerings were accepted as largely inconsequential histories. People like Tomas O Criomhtain and his son Sean, Peig Sayers of course and Muiris O Suilleabhan and also Eilis Ui Suilleabhan amongst others shared an artistic genius that made their simple island living so paradoxically great. 
The Great Blasket Island bathes in the Atlantic Ocean, just off the Dingle Peninsula of County Kerry, Ireland. It lies close enough to bask in the glory of Skellig Michael, possibly the ‘Thinnest Place’ in all Ireland, but that’s a story for another day. It is the Blasket’s vantage point just off the coast that has made it the perfect unbiased witness to histories as they unfolded both on and off shore. 
Blasket is high enough to see most of the Kerry coastline and also peer into its darkest valleys. It towers over its smaller companion of Inishtooshkert, or the North Blasket Island, which is locally known as the Sleeping Man. That’s because from head to toe, it’s the profile offered to those who see it from sea level. The Biggest Island can also appear to be asleep or dead for most of the time, but no island is totally inert regardless of how much time it takes to apparently change. 
Viewed from that mostly unseen extension of our reality, Blasket is just another physical thing like the physical part of us that is our bodies. It is also somewhere along its cycle of physical life until death and also subject to the command of destiny’s agent, evolution. Blasket is still fulfilling the function for which it seems to have been created, which is to watch and then record and then share. It could be argued that Blasket has already shared much of what it has seen. The evidence for that would be that prodigious crop of internationally acclaimed authors produced from a supposedly simple population maxima of only a hundred and fifty, give or take. 

How is it possible to return to somewhere you’ve never been? Yet there he was, an ocean and at least fifty years away from Portland, Maine, which was another fifty years behind New York. He was back in time but he was also looking at an island on the other side of a turbulent sound, just like he’d so often done through his own weather smeared window on Maiden Cove. 
Jack Sullivan didn’t notice the girl who was clearing away the breakfast things from his table on a hill, halfway between Dunquin and the lowering cloud layer above it. He was peering intently through the driving drizzle counting too many years since he’d actually sat behind the helm of a fishing boat. He then asked himself if it was possible that all islands could exude such a brooding presence when the weather closes in, or was it just Blasket. It was a skulking hulk looking more like a dog left out in the rain. A mixture of resignation to a fate undeserved with profound loss at not being recognised, heard or in any way acknowledged by someone who should.
He was in Kerry hoping to join some dots. Ideally, he would stand on the same patch of land his ancestors had worked to make his existence possible. If he could do that he would further indulge himself by turning over some of the same sods that they had, just to feel the dirt under his fingernails. Hopefully, that would satisfy his illogical urge to come full circle. 
Considering that he was a fisherman with an understandable disdain for farming and farmers, it was an absolutely crazy compulsion to suffer. Yet it had lately been gnawing at him to the point where he was seriously considering if he wasn’t being haunted across the years. Maybe an errant farming forbear had committed some atrocity, which he had to return to somehow put right. It was that, or the very early onset of Alzheimers or Dementia but either way, it wasn’t something he could share with rational people. 
He considered himself more fortunate than most fishermen, though some called him lucky while others pinned less generous tags on him. True, some of those might be deserved but he did what he had to do to survive. Either way, he had arrived at a milestone in his life where he could take as much time as he needed and invest as much money as it cost him digging for clues. The briefest of smiles creased his face as he remembered old Grandfather Pat telling him that only time itself could tell the whole truth.

There is another old Irish saying that says time waits for no man but apparently, not this time.

Friday, 23 June 2017

Erris - 'Thin Places' Series - Book 2

Erris arrived a little later than planned but that shouldn't be bad news. It grew into the meatiest Novella out there.  
 Your free 3 Chapter Mini e-Book awaits 

Click me for your 3 Chapter Preview download.

This the second Novella of my 'Thin Places' Series after Fanore, which is still a free download from a previous post. That means you can get two for the price of one and this one is very well priced indeed. It's a steal, but I'm not looking ... at least not for a while anyway.

The thing is, I fully intended to put this second one into a competition, but I missed the deadline because I needed it to be perfect before putting it out there and now it is. Doh.

So, it looks like you can judge it for me but believe me, I made that job very easy for you because you won't get a more entertaining holiday read this year, unless you're going to Erris. In which case it will still be waiting for you when you get back ... if you get back.

You see, Erris is in Ireland and the Celts were probably the first civilisation to recognise "Thin Places' for what they really are, or aren't.  Sure they can look beautiful, which is why people from all over come to immerse themselves in their pristine timelessness. However, they are also places where the boundary between our physical reality and the metaphysical reality that parallels us, is sometimes in flux.

The reasons for that phenomena are as plentiful as rainy days in Erris, but it ultimately comes down to the issue of multiple undocumented histories. We like to think that someone with a pen will always survive history and then write it down for us, despite the fact that the last man or woman standing, sometimes doesn't make it. 

Written or not, these histories happen and if they are truly significant events that didn't get into words, you can be sure they'll etch themselves into the fabric of time itself.

In places where time and reality are occasionally in flux, we would be foolish to assume that our familiar 4 dimensional version will always be the default value. What I'm saying is that if we choose to immerse ourselves in 'Thin Places' like Erris, we need to be very careful about just how deep we want to really go.

The case in point deals with a fairly naive young man who packs himself off to Erris most summers to perfect his Gaelic. Apparently there's a well known summer school there. Anyway, when he tunes in on that placid invitation to soak up some timeless ambience, he gets himself immersed in more than just cold water. 

He finds himself in a life and death struggle that may not have ended well ... but when?

Friday, 10 March 2017

Fanore - A Gift to You


Just use the link above to collect your free gift directly.


Fanore is a very real place but this is not a guide book for tourists. It is the first Novella of my 'Thin Places' Series. If you don't know what a 'Thin Place' is, you are in good company, because no one knows for sure. You see, there is no accepted definition of what they are, but we do know some of what they do. They exist primarily in wilderness areas and through them, we can paradoxically gauge our significance to this reality by the extent of our insignificance or helplessness inside it. If we yield to them, we can receive the gift of temporary insights into the moment beyond the present and into a tomorrow filled with all possibilities. Some people report insights and even experiences of moments long past, so we know that time seems to be in flux around them.

This power to enhance our sixth sense isn't constant but seems to wax and wane to some metaphysical almanac along with our ability and/or willingness to tap into it. Ancient philosophers have for thousands of years told us of the duality in, or the Yin and Yang aspect to everything. That means that physicality must also have its opposite metaphysical reality. All of reality, or the extended reality, must therefore be made of both and 'Thin Places' are where we can sense aspects of both.

The suggestion is that the membrane which surrounds our physical reality from the rest of it, is stretched thin in these places and hence the name. I personally believe that our dual reality is what is contained against the vastness of infinity, because logically, infinity can be the only source of all possibilities. Thin places therefore, would be where these possibilities come but also go. 

This novella takes a look at what might be going on to make this particular 'Thin Places' so apparently thin. The Wild Atlantic Way along Ireland's West Coast seems to have quite a few of these 'Portals' and that is why I chose to start in Fanore, which is right in the middle. Each story will be as unique as the place it is set. Instead of chapters, each book has Acts, which are presented like a small play. The purpose of this is to get the reader involved in the scenes as quickly and as thoroughly as possible. The reader should succumb to suggestion just as the observer succumbs to the power of the 'Thin Place' ambience.

The events of Fanore take place within a small area of North County Clare, but time seems to be what makes this particular location so thin, so you will have to establish that aspect for yourself. Fanore is part of the Burren area of County Clare and I do appreciate that not all thin places are Irish, but this one has a distinctly Irish flavour.

I hope you enjoy it enough to revisit my Blog/Site/Facebook Page to follow my progress and hopefully to look at my other, much bigger books that will take you so much further away from your daily cares.

Please oblige with feedback and I will be guided by your comments as I decide which turn to take on my own particular road. More mega Science Fiction/Fantasy / Spirituality / or this quirky brand of Fiction.

Thanks for stopping by.

Tuesday, 6 December 2016

Science Fiction is not just Literature at its Absolute Best


The following is typical of what you get if you 'Google' literature.

It is a noun, comprising written works, especially those considered 'superior' or of lasting artistic merit.

"a great work of literature"

synonyms:written works, writings, (creative) writing, literary texts, compositions, letters, belles-lettres, 

The accumulated rain on this brass sundial hides the time of day unless you adjust your perception to appreciate the beautifully detailed instrument as well as the accuracy it can produce. Yet some people claim to look for only the best books by blinkering themselves to some truly exceptional books. 

Believe it or not, there are those who do the equivalent of looking for literature under the letter 'L'. They have much in common with people who gather to taste wine because it's not vulgar like beer, even though it really is. I call them 'Long Noses' because beer tasting is just as much fun and you get to taste more without abusing your nose. 

There are also literary 'Long Noses' who have conditioned themselves and many of us into believing that truly great literature can only be an autobiography or a novel based on fiction or history. But seriously, who would really want to read a book written by someone with such an inflated ego? So, for most real people, 'Literature' is effectively 'the' novel based on history or fiction and everything else must be either crass or boring.

Yet any novel based on history could be interesting, but it's already finished. Another based on fiction will never happen, simply because it is fiction. They are quite limited.

Like any other book, Science Fiction can be written any way from poorly to extremely well and in as many styles as any novel, but because it is a logical, if sometimes far fetched extension of today, it requires the writer to create a tomorrow in which it can be reasonably played out.  I would consider that to be far superior to re-describing yesterday, or presenting a version of tomorrow that is destined to be forever fiction, because by that definition it can never happen.  

Science Fiction 'Literature' must be well written, but must also create a logical if sometimes incredible tomorrow that becomes more credible as the link to today is demonstrably maintained and even strengthened. It becomes even more acceptable when today is demonstrably derived from a previously distant and possibly undocumented past. 

Catalysis is Book 1 of the Catalysis Trilogy and it describes today just as it is about to diverge into a very real or an alternate tomorrow. Who can say which, until tomorrow actually happens. After all, that's the way tomorrow has always historically happened.

Ochre is Book 2 of the Catalysis Trilogy and it describes a yesterday just before documented history, but then everything that happened only 5000 thousand years ago is largely undocumented. So who can say what did or did not happen back then, especially when today is the very demonstrable result.  

Imago is the final book of the Trilogy and it will present you with a tomorrow unlike any you've ever dreamed of, but one that is based on yesterday and today, so it can never be discounted.

The Catalysis Trilogy is three separate worlds created from the simple fact of today. One retraces history while the other advances into the future. It is probably as far from the tired retelling of yesterdays as you can possibly get, and because it produces a viable tomorrow, it is every bit as 'Literature' as a Tale of two Cities. In fact, it has as many fabulous cities as it has viable worlds.

The real definition of 'Literature' is something to read anytime and any number of times and unlike a bottle of wine, it will always be full and never become bitter if left for a day or two. Enjoy 'The Catalysis Trilogy' sensibly because it is physically too big and conceptually too vast to be ingested as quickly as you will wish.

Happy Christmas.

Tuesday, 25 October 2016

October Again

The last terrestrial and also extraterrestrial dialogues of IMAGO, Book-3 of THE CATALYSIS TRILOGY, occur right here. Intriguing but true. Also, the basic image for the cover graphics of IMAGO was captured from this little bridge. Both books are just now complete and published with details added to my site

I dedicated Imago to the 'Spirit Within' because last October was a much darker time for us and during times like those we all need to be more than just seen. We need to radiate hope, even if we don't always feel it because the sad fact is that one of us will definitely be the last person another of us will ever see. That could be the selfie with us they take with them.

That dedication is proof that not all SF is photon torpedoes and zero to warp 10 in twenty seconds. This trilogy is Science Fiction and maybe Fantasy, but it's mainly about humanity and where we might be going and with whom. It is about people that most of us would consider flawed but who radiate enough to dazzle Destiny and then co-author our futures for us.

October means not forgetting, but also learning and moving on.

Thursday, 13 October 2016

A Vocation - Just like a Priest's

 It's 3.30am and our house is quiet, but my vocation won't let me sleep. The Catalysis Trilogy is just now finished and published with this third book, but no-one knows yet except me, which means it's only begun for you. I know you will love this epic story.
                                      In the coming months, you are going to hear a lot about "The Catalysis Trilogy", and especially about the last book, IMAGO but don't worry. Now that production is finished, I can focus on sharing my ideas with you and I have reduced all three books to make that possible.

                                      I undertake to keep my price to $2.99 for each book for as long as I possibly can. The retailers will add to that so please do shop around. I am also retailing Book of Plebs at the same price.

                                      I will be releasing the Trilogy box set in about two to three weeks and that will be the biggest E-Book out there, with the most cutting edge ideas expressed in the most articulate fashion to create a virtually new genre of Science Fantasy/Science Fiction with unique Spiritual and Literary overtones that will enthral and amaze and just show you what can be done when you fear nothing. 

                                      When you read any one of these books, in any order you like, you'll quickly see that it was never about money. It's a vocation, just like a priest's, but it's not about religion. It's about us, as flawed, scared and brilliant as we are.

                                      Here. Why not download your 3 chapter Mini-E Book preview, or ME-Book, as I call them, and then scroll down to get the 3-Chapters from the other 2 Books of The Catalysis Trilogy and also Book of Plebs. I can do that because I am firm believer in WYSIWYG.

                                     You will not find a better read, but don't believe me if you don't want to. Very soon, other people are going to tell you anyway.

                                      Have an epic day.