It's an exciting day at Marsh Towers - the proofreading copy for my new novel,
Once Bitten, is here!
I am very pleased with the cover design (
courtesy of Jim McNulty of JMC Design and Motion Ltd), and it's been far too long since I had a book out. Release is imminent (within a week) and so in celebration, and as it's hard to share champagne on the internet, here's a sneak preview of the prologue. I hope you enjoy!
Prologue: Indestructible Alien Mercenary
When
I was a child, my parents were intense holidaymakers. Not for them package
flights to the Algarve or the Costa del Sol; no, they didn’t feel a holiday was
worthwhile unless it involved a tremendous amount of planning and work. They
would spend months scrutinising maps of northern Europe, patiently plotting
points, measuring distances and noting places of interest and fuel
way-stations. Entering our kitchen in the weeks leading up to a summer holiday
was like walking into Fighter Command during the Battle of Britain.
My parents were both teachers,
and they were determined to make the best of our long summer holidays, which
meant that the trips usually lasted three and sometimes four weeks – an
eternity when I was ten. Large sections of my childhood holiday memories
consist of the image of the back of my dad’s seat rest in our old Nissan
Bluebird, which I watched while I wondered how much farther we had to go to
reach the next marked spot on my parents' much pored-over map.
The monotony of these long trips
was occasionally leavened by my parents pulling into a lay-by beside the
autobahn and swearing over that map whilst my nan, my brother and I quietly
drank orange juice from pre-packed cartons. These
diversions were the exception rather than the rule, though, and for the rest of
the time it was good to have something to occupy my mind - something to read.
Therefore, my personal preparations for these epic holidays involved
meticulously choosing which books I was going to take for the journey.
I must have been at a
particularly impressionable age during the holiday that stands out in my mind
because I packed two books that had such an impact upon me that they affected
the
entire
future trajectory of my life.
The first book was called Deathwing over Veynaa, by Douglas Hill,
and it was about an indestructible alien mercenary from the planet Moros.
The second was Every Living Thing, by James Herriot.
When I’d finished them, I knew
that was it for me. I knew exactly what I wanted to do with the rest of my time
on Earth.
Unfortunately, I soon discovered
that it’s incredibly difficult to actually become an indestructible alien
mercenary, so I settled on trying to become a vet instead.
*
‘I promise above all that I will pursue the work of
my profession with uprightness of conduct, and that my constant endeavor will
be to ensure the welfare of the animals committed to my care.’
In that
marquee at Langford, I stood up to speak the words as an apprentice, but I sat
down as a legionnaire. The oath was my own Quest. I was going to make the galaxy
better, one animal at a time.
Like
many brave heroes, those around me sometimes doubted me.
Was I sure? they asked. Was I cut out for it? I wasn't the world's most
outgoing person - I was shy and nerdy. It was a hard job. Wasn't I more suited
for a job in administration, or I.T., or academia? I remember one melancholy
trip to the pub with an old school friend who kept saying, 'Two years, mate. I
give it two years before you're worn down, and you quit.'
This is the
story of those two years. It's the story of the oath, and my quest, and the
journey that it took me on.
