I’ve said a few times now. The Little Fears were never meant to be an actual income stream. It started as a daft side project to combine the silly doodles and silly stories from the Blue Moon series. Six months later and they were beginning to earn their keep.A year later and I am seriously questioning if they should be my sole focus for my income. When I quit my terrible job last year, I never thought a portion of my income would be coming from scribbled monsters and awful puns.
The next 270 tales I post here, cover the following three books. Grey Moon, the current stories in which Reala finds herself the landlady of a pub. Starring Yuffie, Fuen and Lucy. Brass City, focussing entirely on two new characters on a road trip through a post-apocalyptic landscape. Then DCI Lily, centred on another two new characters chasing a serial killer. All three of these books share one thing in common. They feature barely any of the characters I’ve been writing about for the last year.
I am a sentimental, soppy twit for sure. I’m not ready to drop Hydra, Red, Spectre, Sprite, Serpent, Clouds, Spiders or any of the other regular characters of the Little Fears into the abyss of forgotten tales. They have given me an alternative to returning to a 9 to 5 (or in my case, 6 am – 8 pm and beyond). They have introduced me to some fab new friends on the internet. They’ve spread a lot of cheer and given a lotta people a smile on their morning commutes.
So now I don’t have to worry about characters and stories colliding from old books, I shall be posting the last of the January tales and the Spiders stories with new videos. Every Tuesday and Thursday evening will see a retro Little Fears. The ones that never had a video the first time around.
This blog post reads a bit like a teens Tumblr update. Don’t care; my characters mean a lot to me. I imagine most writers feel something for the personalities they create on paper.
Speaking of new stories, the next books pretty much ready to publish. Just trying to figure out a cover for it now.
Something like that maybe? I do like it, but I think I need to alter the sizes and shades of grey a little. Dunno, I’ll figure it out.
Thinking I should start selling my spare book covers as well. I have piles of the ruddy things on my hard drive that look fab but don’t fit the books I’m releasing.
He walked past the graffiti-laden walls, 36 steps, turn left, 42 steps, right wall.
Someone had stolen the bench. He felt the wall and floor. Click. The wall slid to the right. The dust drifted upwards on the disturbed air.
Nobody had found this room. It must have been 20 years. The door marked by them clawing from the inside. He could hear their screams. He could smell their fear. He would never forget. How could he?
Now they’d led him back here. The door closed quietly behind him.
“Darn,” grumbled the piece of string. She wandered back outside, looped herself up and over then tattered her ends up. While straightening her tie she walked back in.
Reala eyed her with suspicion. “Aren’t you the piece of string I threw out a moment ago?”
Doris, 84, shocked to death by an electric blanket. She’d come in with black marks and burns across her face and body. Presumably, day shift had made her passingly presentable.
She didn’t notice the blood under the counter. Or the grin forming on Doris’ face.
She noticed a rustle when Doris sat up, but by then it was too late.