Happy New Year!

First day of 2017 and that traditional news round-up of the previous twelve months. First of all I wish you all a wonderful 2017 and thank you all for supporting my writing over 2016!

2016 was a strange year. A great deal of it felt as if life in the Edwards-Coleborn household was marking time. Health and homes and all those things that make up what is so quaintly called the rich tapestry. But all of that, darlings, is sooooooo last year! Onward (as they say) and not upward so much as forward into stardom!

front cover 003Most prominent with regard to my writing was the arrival of Fables and Fabrications (available in paper and kindle formats at all good online outlets 🙂 🙂 )   This has been a steady seller I am happy to say – even finding an audience outside of the UK, despite many of the stories being very ‘English’ in setting – as the cover blurb has it: “Fourteen tales of mystery, mirth and the macabre. From the arctic wastes of Norway to a fun laden evening at the fair, Jan Edwards leads us through a world where nothing is as it seems. Shape changers and ancient spirits roam and cats play a crucial part in stories that unsettle and disturb the reader’s perception.” Continue reading

An Extract From ‘Drawing Down The Moon’ #fiction #fables&fabrications #horror

In the light (  🙂 ) of this week’s supermoon…

front cover copyAn extract from ‘Drawing Down the Moon’ – one of the creepy tales to be  found in my collection Fables and Fabrications.  (Available in paper and kindle formats)

***

…She breathed in ozone-laden moisture and remembered how she had stood on the hillside within the temple grounds on many such nights as for old enmity he held for her sisterhood.

Wilder elements always focused her psyche. This rite was something she had not anticipated acting out ever again, yet it was always there; waiting in the shadows for her to reach out and pluck it into the semi-light.

Kicking off her shoes she shed her coat, letting it slip free of her fingers. She unzipped her skirt and allowed it to drop around her ankles. I who have nothing, she crooned into the room’s silence, and smiled. In the old days men were crazed by the notion of spying on her order. In the old days the Sisters would have crazed any man known to risk that spying. She unbuttoned her blouse as she hummed the recent ballad, swaying her hips, taking her time, taunting. Any added emotion her audience brought to the rite was to be welcomed.

She stood tall in nothing but black chemise and composure. Long ago she would have been naked but temperature ruled against it. They would have their floor show soon enough. Let them leer, allow them anticipation.

Her lips moved, like a slow reader, not singing now but chanting. To herself first, and then more loudly as her conscious merged with the echoes of beyond. She called on the Keres, daughters of Nyx, on Mnemosyne and Bia and on Lethe, but most of all she called to Styx and to Hecate. She slipped into the ritual as a ripe and luscious strawberry slides into the rich, sweet, darkness of chocolate. She became the rite, the vessel, through which the tendrils wafting off the Veil strayed into this world.

Energised by her actions she moved to the fountain; stretching her arms toward the spigots, whirling three times in a twisted, fluid dance; aping the very water. She swayed beneath the liquid, allowing it to cascade around her neck and shoulders before throwing her head back to loose a wild ululation. She called once again upon Hecate and Styx to allow the soul departed a brief return.

From beyond the clouds she felt the pull of the moon. It called her and she called back, repeating her watery dance twice more. Then she dropped to the hard, cool floor; prostrating herself before her elementals, with arms outstretched.

Wind rattled the glass, reaching into the room and splaying the fountain’s water flow in its passing, rippling the voile curtains into horizontal.

Whilst this Thessalian woman worked her dark acts; diving into the world of shades and emerging with an act of full blown necromancy, just two pairs of eyes watched her, in thrall as the bodyguards, having washed the corpse had withdrawn; apparently not to be privy to any information the deceased might have.

Cin saw Jeno.

Cin saw her boy.

Their heads were almost touching. She saw them both look at her, and whisper to each other.

Betrayal? Was he also a man? Mid-rite she could not permit her own wants to intrude. She could not, would not, see her boy intimate with the man who killed so lightly.

The storm cut off as though a switch had been flicked. Where there had been only cloud, a harsh moonlight slotted across the untidy shagginess of blasted borders and winter lawns, glinting off the door panes and onto the woman who waited for its touch.

Cinthia swept off her eye patch to expose a puckered depression. Deliberately, elegantly, she came up to full height with arms up and rigid fingers splayed wide. She flexed each digit, clawing at the shaft of light, emitting a litany of noise from deep in her throat.

Listeners could not discern words in either Greek or English, but there was an unmistakable cadence placed on the edges of those notes that shredded nerves as surely as cat-claws down velvet curtains.

The moon’s colour changed, starting on one side and creeping across its face, growing deeper and larger than its silvery persona. It had taken on a reddish hue, hanging low, resting on the jagged horizon of surrounding rooftops; a fecund and brooding night bird waiting to drop on its prey.

So Why the Cat?

front cover copyOne of the most frequently asked questions from people who first see my Fables and Fabrications collection is ‘why the cat?’ Continue reading

Fcon report

layujhch
Older Fantasycon goers amongst us will remember the annual Fcon report that appeared in the BFS Newsletter/Bulletin/Prism following Fantasycon each year.

Continue reading

6Towns today

I shall be on 6Towns radio, along with writer, Misha Herwin, talking about our books Fables and Fabrications and Picking up the Pieces with The Curtain Call Show’s ‘Becs and Rob’.

Pick us up online here between 4.45 and 5.15! (give or take a few minutes 🙂  )

front cover copy

Front over for Blog

House keeping those platforms

Building platforms for your writing is always tricky, and potentially unwieldy with so many threads to look after.  For some time I have followed the trend of launching a new Facebook page for every book as it comes out, but once you get a few of them its so hard to keep track and update then regularly enough to attract footfall.

After much thought I decided to ‘merge’ all of my various Facebook pages dedicated to individual book titles into one page.
cropped-feb-2016.gifNot a huge change as changes go but easier to house keep (I hope)

So if you are on Facebook then go and like Jan Edwards Books!