Saturday, October 11, 2014

And Now a Word from Our Sponsor. Not.




Of course I don't have a sponsor, even though I've long dreamed of being a toyboy to some rich, eighty-year old woman with a heart condition and no dependants. Maybe if I were an athlete I could get the ACME Steroid Corporation to fund my frivolous excesses. But no. So instead please humour me awhile while I blow my own (slightly dented) bugle.

I promise I won't try to sell you one of my books, OK? (See note at foot of post)

Get to the point, Dolan, I hear you mutter impatiently.

Now here's the thing. Last year I signed up to a literary suicide pact with a writer based in Virginia by the name of Fiona Quinn. 

Anyway.

Yes, I'm getting there. Stop sighing. And put that gun away. It might be loaded.

Well, Fiona and I decided in a moment of madness to co-author a novel. This was in spite of the fact that we had never met - and still haven't - and we had the inconvenience of eleven hours of time-difference between us. (The scientists among you may wish to point out that if the Earth were not in fact spinning, we'd all float off into space like that handsome grey-haired guy in the film Gravity; so maybe time zones are a good thing. Having sat through two hours of Sandra Bullock's acting, I remain torn on this point.)

After several months of Skyping and whizzing chapter drafts back and forth across the crackly ether, I can announce that the love child of this unusual union will soon see the light of day. How soon? I hear you ask. On this, for the moment my lips must remain more firmly pressed together than the knees of a nun at a Michael Buble concert. But soon, all right?

Fiona and I are, however, sufficiently confident that our offspring will not be born with two heads to start bleeding out some details of our endeavour. Starting with a cover reveal.


If it makes your eyeballs rotate, it's working. Here's the blurb which hopefully will make the rest of you rotate.


Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul
But I do love thee! And when I love thee not
Chaos is come again.

Sean hears voices in his head.
Travis snorts cocaine.
Teagan thinks she’s the next Lady Gaga.
Avery has the boss from Hell and a mother with dementia.
And Goose thinks he can catch a serial killer.

‘Chaos is Come Again’ is a psychological suspense, a mystery, and a love story – loaded with irreverent humour, and viewed through the lens of obsession.

WARNING: This book contains references to Judas, a dwarf and a performing monkey.


Now, as the saying goes, Watch This Space.

Come to think of it, that sounds like a good summary of Gravity. Over to you, Sandra.


NOTE: This doesn't count as trying to sell you one of my books. Not according to my lawyer.



Monday, October 6, 2014

Tight Trousers and Asteriods (Not Hemorrhoids)



OK, let me confess. I'm a fan of Liv Tyler.

As if that weren't shameful enough, I like Aerosmith too - a group of not-so-gracefully-ageing rockers who feature Liv's dad on vocals.

These are the only two reasons I watched 'Armageddon', a ludicrous Bruce Willis/Ben Affleck action movie about an asteriod on collision course with Earth. Liv was in it and Aerosmith provided the theme song.

It works for me. Does it work for you?

If so, feel free to sing along. If nothing else, it will embarrass your kids. And that's never a bad thing.

Click below and feel the love. Or something, anyway.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9o4kvBI5A98&list=PLCIJPOEg-cXOChe1sfjjXGP_dU4gQRY-R&index=63