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Infinity – Book Review

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Having only recently got back into reading short stories I was very happy with this choice.

This story is a bit longer than a short, and a bit shorter than a novella, but it wasn’t noticed once I started reading.

Infinity by Marc W Shako.

Quite an unusual storyline, reminiscent of Logans Run for me, but slightly more gritty and quite fast paced. Each chapter led on well to the next and although the immediate story going on was wrapped up, there was the implication of much more. It would be nice to see the story developed into a full novel. But definite thumbs up from me.

Door and other twisted tales – Book Review

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A thoroughly enjoyable read. A varied collection of strange tales, nearly all the stories kept me engaged and quite hooked from the first page of each. Atmospheric and creepy. Set in very different times and locations, they create a great feeling of weird. I especially enjoyed them as like mine, they aren’t gory, but give you an overall sense of unease.

Door and other twisted tales by Catherine McCarthy

Free Book today – The Unknown

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Free today (Friday 18th September) on Kindle

A discovery in the Siberian tundra turns the entire world upside down, rewriting history and setting seemingly unstoppable forces in motion. In a race against time in a quickly changing world, they must learn to adapt to survive. Will people accept their fate or fight to save an existence that was always meant to end? Can humanity survive?

Virus Sci-fi horror fiction – The Unknown

Reasonable attitude…

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Excerpt taken from my published fictional novel, The Willing Observer.

For any society to work there must be a reasonable attitude within it and a fairly standard idea of what reasonable is. When societies grow together the boundaries are learnt and compromise can be achieved. But that is not how man has evolved. Instead there are personal agenda’s instead of a prime directive, which loses sight of what is important or right for all. Because all don’t know what is right? Who decides who is right, who can be the arbitrator for everyone?

Personal accountability is everything and self-denial will do everything it can to avoid this but you must understand, we are all accountable. Don’t hide from it, judge yourself. I do this on a routinely basis if not daily. I question my motives and objectives and re-evaluate them to make sure, I only retain control by being aware of it and maintaining it. Life is a work in progress and mine is no different, constantly throwing new challenges and situations to understand and learn from. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

The Willing Observer.

Forethought & Consequence…

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Excerpt from my recently published book – Meeting in the middle of Nowhere, looking at the differences between someone with Aphantasia – my husband, and on the other side Hyperphantasia – Me.

‘Without the ability to plan out future scenarios, forethought and consequence are hampered in my view. Being able to plan one’s life seems like it would be much harder, could come across as quite haphazard to someone like me and ‘on the hop’ as it were.

My mother was this way, ‘a bit flighty’ we used to say. And if she hadn’t passed away, I would have a ton of questions for her about my theories on how she ended up the way she did. So I was strangely prepared for this type of living although I don’t enjoy it. Before my husband and I met, I had been living in the same town for about sixteen years, and only two different houses in the space of thirteen years. From being moved around all the time and having no roots in my childhood, all I wanted to do was settle down when I grew up. So I did.

He had also moved around a lot, but hadn’t ever wanted to settle. He didn’t feel the need to do the same thing every day, didn’t want to see the same people and talk about the same old crap. He doesn’t do small talk and general chit chat just to pass the time, even with me. I would say he is an adventurer. He wants to experience life and be there, because without that, life really is boring. He can’t imagine being somewhere, he can’t ‘switch off’ and go into fantasy land, and he can’t sit there and mentally time travel to pass the time or rethink things. So he takes enjoyment from things as they happen.

I have a lot of hobbies, I needed lots of mental stimulation growing up and found reading, writing, drawing, movies, embroidery, cooking, cleaning and anything that I could find to occupy my brain. I feel like I accidentally experienced life because I just happened to be there and through other people and opportunities. All of it took mental planning and visualising, all my pastimes, all my career choices and ambitions. If I don’t think about them in advance, I don’t get geared up to do them. My motivation sometimes needs motivating.

He doesn’t have any mental pictures to inspire him and with this, boredom took on a whole new meaning to me. I understood why he seemed agitated and bored a lot, because he genuinely is. There is no forethought happening to plan tasks or time filling activities. And it’s a vicious circle, bored because you aren’t doing anything, but literally can’t think of anything to do. Travel seems to be the thing for him, getting there is part of the adventure and then being somewhere, doing something. It’s live and happening. So we have had to find a way to work with both. So that I don’t feel completely unsettled by never knowing what’s coming next. I need time to mentally prepare for things, and so he doesn’t feel like his life is Groundhog Day. It’s easy to say ‘find something to do’ but this doesn’t strike me as an easy task for him. Hell, it’s sometimes not an easy task for me and I have a million and one things going through my head to do.

Another classic saying springs to mind for this chapter ‘Look before you leap’. This for me has always been associated with thinking ahead and for awareness of consequence.

But within an awareness of consequence must be a fear of it too surely? If there is no fear of the consequence because it is not happening, then why would you hold yourself back? I don’t think you would for some people, but you wouldn’t really know why. On the other hand, having an awareness of the repercussion and fear of it does not automatically mean it can be averted either. I have found a classic example of forethought and consequence causing two quite avoidable injuries I sustained in childhood.

Example: I was about seven or eight years old and I had a push bike. A Raleigh BMX to be precise, red and white. I loved it and would blat to the shops or down to my friend’s house, no problems. On this one particular day, I was biking to what we called ‘the 10 0’clock shop’ – probably no mystery as to why. Running parallel to the very straight main road, was a side road with a row of houses, but was steeply dipped coming up at the shop. So I decided to take the dipped road, with the intention of peddling as fast as I could down, so that it wasn’t such a hard slog up if you got some momentum behind you. Sounded like a solid plan, and it was.

Until for what would appear to be no reason at all (I now suspect Hyperphantasia) I started to wonder if what I had been told was true. Does your front wheel buckle if you let go of your handlebars while going really fast? Now, you may think this thought might have just been dismissed and I continued on my speedy way. No such luck. I wanted to know. Had to know if my imaginings of it all going horrible wrong were correct. So, I let go. And true to the information I had been given and had imagined, my front wheel buckled. I flew over the front of the bike and fell face first onto the concrete.

I really hadn’t given enough thought to what would happen next in a physical sense. What did happen was a lot of pain, a fair amount of blood, some smashed in front teeth with one completely missing. And luckily a random lady coming out of one of the houses to help patch me up. I felt stupid, I’m not going to lie. I wasn’t really sure what it was that had made me do it, I had put logic to one side and just went for it. It scared me a bit when I started to understand what I was capable to doing to myself. We are very breakable, and I guess as children it can be a hard time learning that however your brain works.

Example: Around the same time in my life, we had three dogs. One of them in particular had an issue with things coming through the letterbox. Anything that came through was, for want of a better word, savaged. So, again, in my ridiculous childhood thought process, wondered. Could it be possible, that if I put my hand through the letterbox, it will get treated with the same contempt? The answer is yes, but only temporarily. In the dogs defense, as soon as he realised it was my hand, he let go. Unfortunately his tooth had punctured one of my fingers, there was screaming and lots of blood. A few stitches in my index finger and I was fine, but started to see a pattern forming. I didn’t trust what I was told or even my own thoughts and felt the need to prove these things, even at great cost to myself. It was here I think I first started to understand about instinct and how you are just going to have work out some things for yourself. Where others may be giving you really sound advice, take heed. That does not mean take the advice, but keep it in mind.’

meeting-in-the-middle-of-nowhere-new-cover-front-only-may-2021

 

(c) K Wicks

A Sense of Self and Identity…

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Chapter from my recent book Meeting in the Middle of Nowhere, looking at #Aphantasia #Hyperphantasia

Another question that I felt I should approach, was to ask if he had a sense of self. He didn’t know what I meant and I explained the term. This is something that has taken much of my thought. How the world views me, how I view myself and the world, all the things I feel this encompasses and can affect about a person. Being able to do this has helped me with each identity crisis I have gone through (and possibly caused some of them), helped me make friends, improve my career and assisted me generally in life.

So if someone were to not have a sense of self, I felt this would lead to feelings of a complete lack of identity. But without the concept of self and therefore identity, it seemed there was nothing to lack. It is only when I explained how much the sense of self affects ego and people’s motive and actions, he began to understand. And I was wrong, there isn’t a lack of identity at all, in fact, there is a person who knows what they want and who they are without the need to question it. I envied this slightly.

It’s like explaining another world to someone who has been travelling alongside it their whole life and didn’t know. It was quite a shock to reveal how apparently 98% of people function and think (within the parameters of what we know anyway). And the consequence of that was to cause him to rethink everything he thought he knew. It was hard to watch and to know I had opened that can of worms.

It’s almost like the scene I guess from the 1988 movie ‘They Live’ when he puts on the sunglasses and sees that most people aren’t like him. It throws you and makes you question everything. Added to that potentially having SDAM meant any attempt to try and recollect things was hard work. To try and work back through what has come before to understand yourself, when you have minimal data stored about it can cause great frustration.

I also realised this meant possibly most terms that start with self may be in the ring for being different. Self-esteem and confidence was one I wanted to explore further, because he appears to genuinely not care what people think of him. I wondered if this had developed because of his lack of sense of self, or perhaps the no filter honesty streak. That he might have received such a shocked response on numerous occasions without understanding why, that he developed thick skin as a side-affect.

I theorise it’s because without an ‘image of yourself’ how do you think about how others see you? How can you interpret what others may think of you? Learning this was quite pivotal in growing up for me and I didn’t know how he might know or work out what others would think. I now know, he doesn’t know what people think of him. He’s very perceptive about others intentions though and can work people out quicker than I can, but building a picture of someone in his mind doesn’t occur. Or the concept that other people may have a mental picture of him.

Mine however works very differently, I am very aware of how the world may view me, or how I would like it to view me. My thick skin developed over time and through logic. I found it easier in the end to unravel why sometimes I was being an idiot or hurtful and change those tendencies. Not to take anything to heart and let it get me down or let it be the motivator for a life decision. People can be a major influence on your decisions without you even being aware of it – but really it is only the perception of what they think that affects us. Often tainted by our own experiences or outlook. Perspective can be a great thing, if used when needed.

But having a sense of self is what has helped to drive me forward in my life, helped me to look at what I want to aspire to be and to do it. Without that self, I am not entirely sure who would have been steering the ship, so to speak.

My husband does not aspire to be anything in particular other than what he is. He has no ambition, and frankly after piecing it all together, I am not surprised. There is nothing until it happens, so what would you focus on as your goal? How would you have a five year or multi stage plan? He worked hard and just got on with life. Fortunately I look at people and who they are, not what they do for a living or how much money they make. Although I have ambition myself, it’s not something I presumed everyone else would have. I don’t judge someone for not being like me. In fact it seems strange to have that expectation, how can anyone be like me? They haven’t lived my life or seen what I have seen. It’s far more interesting to me to see the differences in people and work out how they came to be. We are all different, I just never saw that as a bad thing.

(Meeting in the Middle of Nowhere).

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Chronesthesia (Mental Time Travel)…

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During the writing of my recent book, ‘Meeting in the Middle of Nowhere’, i fully believed I was investigating my husband. We had discovered after a year or two or marriage that we weren’t quite on the same page about a great many things and this led me to ask a lots of questions. I like to know the why’s and how’s for things. I don’t mind people thinking differently or having another view, but I like to know why.

But once we discovered the why, Aphantasia, it was a snow ball effect thereafter. The more we learnt, the more it changed how we saw ourselves rather than each other. And in learning more about Aphantasia, I stumbled across Hyperphantasia. It fit, a little too perfectly. Like him, I thought my brain was just like everyone else’s. I thought everyone else had to contend with constant imagery, internal monologue that won’t shut up, with past thoughts coming back from nowhere. That everyone had dreams and was afflicted by thoughts, ideas and life all jostling for position, in their head. Apparently not. It was my turn to be shocked and a bit taken aback.

There more I learnt, the more there was to learn, but it felt like things were finally finding their place in mind. One chapter in the book is dedicated to Chronesthesia, what they call mental time travel. It sounds very silly to someone with Aphantasia it turns out, but not me, because it was exactly what my brain does and what I had been trying to explain to my husband. Unfortunately this process seems to go hand in hand with anxiety so it’s got to be managed like all the others. Once you know what your brain is doing, it can be easier to keep it in check!

MITMON LEAF

Clocking Off (Short Story)…

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Sharing again one of my published short stories taken from – Under the Apple Tree and other dark short stories. Hope you enjoy Clocking Off…

UTAT - paperback clocking off

Clocking Off

It was my first day in a new job. I stood before the old Victorian building looking up from the street. It was so imposing and loomed over me, making me want to lean back as if it would come crashing down on me, like reverse vertigo. But it didn’t. Instead I walked up the steps and opened the door.

It was so different inside, completely modernised and fresh with clean furniture and décor, large bright windows filling the front office with light. A complete contrast from the outside view. It was a publishing company that had been established for over a century, and I had been keen to work for them for quite some time.

With a reputation of quality and a great name, working here meant a lifelong ticket to the industry. There had been rumours of other things occurring here other than success, but I had brushed those from my mind. I was not a superstitious person and didn’t go in for bedtime stories or industry gossip, so paid no heed. I wanted to get on and asking silly questions about legend and history wouldn’t serve me well I decided.

I would be meeting with the owner today Mr. Whittle of Whittle & Schumer Publishing, he was of course not the original, but in fact was the 3rd Mr. Whittle, but nonetheless carried the family business forward carrying the name and responsibility.

Solely it turned out. I did ask one question while I was being shown about the building.

“So is there a Mr. Schumer anymore?”

It seemed a reasonable query. Mr. Whittle gave a very small smile before he spoke.

“Bob pops in upstairs from time to time, but not as a general rule. For quite some years now.”

I wondered how old he was, was he the original Mr. Schumer? They didn’t speak of another so on that I was left to wonder, but did not ask.

“That’s his office down the hallway at the end, currently being used by Jim, in fact, it’s only had 3 occupiers since Bob. They say whoever works in there comes up with publishing gold.”

He nudged me upon saying this and gave me a strange wink.

“You’ve started at the right time, Jim will be retiring next year, give you time to get your feet under the table and see if you can cut it first!”

And with that I received a hearty slap on the back. It was the old ways here and I realised I felt at home already. I made my way to my new office and got down to it. I had to learn all about our authors, new projects, marketing and editing, meet all the people and start contributing.

I had a huge pile of books on my desk that had been stacked and marked up into genres with a note on top.

‘For Jim’

I looked around, wondering why this was on my desk and not in Jim’s office on his. I wasn’t here to be a dogs body but didn’t want to rock the boat on my first day. No-one appeared to be interested in what was on my desk, so I bundled the books into my arms nearly dropping them before I noticed a trolley next to my desk. Obviously for the books! Of course people don’t have to carry around stacks of books. I felt like an idiot, but again no-one noticed what I was doing, or cared.

As I pushed the trolley down the corridor, I glanced at some of the titles of the books, they were all varying genres. I wondered why one publisher would be given so many books, did he have to read them all? It worried me for my future here as a publisher, there was no way I could read that many books. Not this side of the century anyway.

I got to Jim’s office, although it still had the old letters of Robert C Schumer delicately painted on the glass. I knocked and opened the door not leaving much time for reply. To be honest I was still a little miffed at having to deliver his books like a lackey and didn’t feel like being made to wait outside. But to my surprise (and quite possibly his) Jim had been asleep upon my entrance, being promptly awoken and nearly falling from his chair in the process.

I was not amused. Jim looked flustered and gave me a look up and down, confusion on his face over the unfamiliarity of mine.

“Who are you? Why didn’t you knock? Had a rough night you know, I don’t make a habit of sleeping on the job. Ah, new books and submissions, wonderful. Oh, you must be the new chap, Prendle is it?”

He went from flustered and agitated at being caught, to charming and dismissive in one moment. It was astonishing.

“It’s Randle actually, and yes just started today. These were left on my desk for you, do you have to read all of them?”

Getting my name wrong riled me, but I let it go. It could be a simple mistake or simply the man was just being an arse. I couldn’t tell at this stage.

“Er, yes. Of course, as the Head Publisher it’s my job to pick the next big thing, the next bestseller, discover the next star of the literary world. There have been quite a few you know. I’m quite known for it.”

The self-adoration in his description of what he does nearly made me laugh and want to be sick just a little. But despite the arrogance and dislike I held for him now I had met him, he was right. He and each of his predecessors had discovered big names and published extremely popular novels. It’s what made them the best publishers and why I was here.

But I was disappointed that Jim was the man behind the magic, and then glad when I remembered he was retiring next year. Hopefully I could just learn what I needed to from him without having to spend too much time with him.

The next few weeks passed and I learnt more and more, but not from Jim. Every time I tried to pin him down for a meeting or review time, he would make an excuse and disappear for a few hours, claiming to be busy, have an appointment or just had to ‘catch up’. I even caught him napping again a few times and if it had been anyone else in a job, I would have sacked them. But he was the Head Publisher and somehow kept giving us the next great book from the massive pile. In all honesty I don’t think I had ever even see him reading. Sleeping yes, but reading no. It puzzled and perplexed me.

But we got along generally on a professional level and I fell into the office routines like everyone else. Still wanting to impress I was working late one night. Only the cleaners on the ground floor for company and my desk lamp for light. It felt nice and calm and a quiet change to the usual hum and noise of the day. Just as I was getting thoroughly engrossed in the review I was preparing, I heard a clatter at the end of hall near Jim’s office. I immediately went to investigate, the notion of anyone else working late didn’t even enter my mind as I hadn’t yet witnessed it. Upon reaching Jim’s office I could see a dull light on inside and the door slightly ajar. I chuckled to myself, thinking maybe I had mis-judged Jim and he was a worker really, even sometimes working late too to get in the success but didn’t want to admit to anyone he had to try.

I pushed open the door and started to say something about being here past his bed-time, but the room was empty. I was so confused. I had thought I could hear the rustle of pages turning, sure there was a faint shadow over the lamplight through the frosted glass. But there was an empty room with a lone lamp on in the corner. But there was also a manuscript. An open one in the middle of the tidy desk, as if in the process in being read.

I glanced around me, half sure that someone was going to jump out at me, or appear from nowhere suddenly. It was unsettling. Instead of leaving right away, I wanted to see what the book was. I had never seen a manuscript or book on Jim’s desk before so I was intrigued as to what it was actually doing there.

I walked over and sat in the chair. It was a nice office from here, it all looked very antique and so set, not very Jim at all. This room had a bit of class. I sat back in the chair and wondered if this ever would be my office, would I ever be good enough to carry the reputation of Whittle & Schumer. I felt a great sadness then come over me, the lamp seemed to dim and room grew a little darker, a shiver escaped me as a cold draft swept by my ankles.

As I was about to stand and make my way back to my desk, when the pages in front of me started to turn, as if being moved by an invisible reader. Surely that was the draft I told myself, pages often move by themselves. I backed towards the door not taking my eyes off them. I knew pages didn’t move by themselves, these were fairly heavy manuscripts being proofed or reviewed. It seemed to take an age to get to the door, and as I did, another page slowly turned. I left, closed the door and returned to my desk. I wasn’t sure I wanted that office anymore.

Only the very next week we had our next best seller. Apparently Jim had been working tirelessly to find the ‘One’ before he retired and he said he had it. We all eagerly awaited his presentation to know what we would be working on and see what gem he had found us this time. As the worksheet was handed around and Jim held the manuscript up, I could see exactly what it was. The one that had been on his desk that night, the one reading itself. Now I was bewildered. Who was doing Jim’s reading for him?!

I wasn’t going to find out it seemed, at the end of the presentation, Jim announced his retirement. He would be leaving that day. There was a fake sounding speech about how he would miss everyone and lots of insincere gushing, but on the whole a rather quick round up. I could tell he didn’t want to be here anymore, not even for his own leaving party.

As he was on his was out, he came over to me and shook my hand furiously.

“Good luck Randle, sorry I didn’t have any time to show you the ropes and stuff, this retirement thing sort of sneaked up on me you know. But anyway, good luck, and here’s a tip. If you aren’t sure what’s next, try leaving the books on the desk, you might find it comes to you in the morning.”

With that I got a strange wink, my hand released, and he was gone. I really wasn’t sure what he meant at first but it didn’t take me long to work it out. I spotted Mr. Whittle at the back of the room and made my way over to him.

“Sir, I’m not sure I can live up the reputation we have, I just want to be honest now before you make a mistake. I don’t want to let you and Mr. Schumer down.”

“Firstly, Jim was nothing special and he managed to do ok. Secondly, Bob’s been dead for decades now, he didn’t have any children so it was only him. He and grandpa built this business from nothing, we though he deserved to have his name kept on it. But it’s only really Whittle now and I believe you’ve got what it takes.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant.

“Thank you, but what do you mean there is no Mr. Schumer anymore? I though you said he popped in from time to time?”

I really was going to need this clarified I realised.

“I apologise, that is just our office humour here. There have been a few strange occurrences and sightings since he passed away so we try and make light of it. Died at his desk you know, reading, he really was dedicated to the job. And well I guess we figured he just never left. Just seemed to be luck too that whoever got his office, got the golden touch as well.”

He was so matter of fact about it I almost forgot what we were talking about, forgot about my office experience and though hey, that sounds reasonable.

“Oh. OK.”

It was all I had. I thanked him for the opportunity and returned to my desk, it wasn’t quite my office yet and I wasn’t sure I wanted it to be. Now I knew that, it creeped me out just a little bit more to know he died in there. Reading no less. Would that be my fate?

I sat there wondering. Why was he still here, didn’t he trust anyone to take over? Did he haunt the people in his office? No, that couldn’t be right, Jim had sounded very upbeat about his advice and with his regular sleeps, certainly wasn’t afraid. And then it struck me, all these years people had been taking advantage of Robert Schumer’s dedication and situation. They had forged careers from his knowledge and eye for a bestseller, it had been him all along!

And they all knew it. That’s why Jim was never around to explain how he did it, he didn’t know! It shocked and annoyed me all at once. The fear I had first felt was now replaced with disgust, but not towards the idea of a spectre, but of the living. I decided this would end with me. I would either be a great publisher because I was, or I wouldn’t be, because I wasn’t. Not because of Robert Schumer doing my work for me.

The next day I moved into my new office. I actually liked everything where it was and felt no need to change it yet. It was the overhanging sadness I was looking to remove, no-one else seemed to notice it or care, but it was a thick sadness that made the room feel stuffy, even with the window open.

At the end of my first day, I tidied the desk and put one book in the middle and went home. Feeling that my new career was finally here and I could start taking on the world. I wanted to get in early the next day to make a start on the next round of submissions, and to see if my idea had worked.

Saying my good mornings, I made my way to my office. As I got there I noticed the name had been removed from the frosted glass and a pot of paint was on standby ready to paint a new one. I opened the door and entered what could only be said, was a different room. The light streamed through the window blinds, the heavy stuffy atmosphere had been replaced with a calm fresh feeling. It was nice. And on the desk was the book I left, open on the last page on which I had written

“Thank you Bob, we can take it from here. You can finally retire”

And under that was a reply which simply read

“Thank you”

(c) K Wicks

So you see pictures in your head?…

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When we realised there was a difference in how we thought and general processes of the mind, I had no idea what it would lead to. It seemed like a small thing at first, he didn’t visualise anything in mind, or dream, or imagine. Anything. At all. Aphantasia. I do, almost constantly in fact. Hyperphantasia. Both at either end of a newly termed spectrum. It explained a lot. And so I found my way to understanding this difference a bit more and to write about how it affects us, how our perspectives of life differ more than we ever thought, and just how it has impacted our understanding of each other.

MITMON Front Cover