Poem thing - WIP

What's Inbetween Has Been Heavily Edited.

At ten I fought the sky

Bundled up fists and a gob full of laughter

Springstruck and gambolling

Eight fields – a world apart

So bright.

So bright.

Now ageless and bright eyed

Beloved – enjoying the moment

Dizzied by fatherhood

Comfortable – sum of my parts (redacted)

So bright

So bright

Writer panic

I've written this thing, a space opera, it's 86'000 words long and within a spit of being a finished first draft. I'm probably finishing off the big payoff action sequence as you read this (or at least tweeting about it which si almost the same. IT IS.). This is my second novel where I think I'm writing at somewhere near a saleable level. The feedback for my last one was good writing but not commercial enough. Fair enough, it was written in a deliberately obtuse style cos sometimes I am.

So what I decided to do was to write something very commercial, Drop first person, drop intrusive voice and go third person multi viewpoint space opera. I suppose it was partly an experiment in 'can I do this?' I've written shorts in third person but I prefer first, it flows better when I'm writing and I've found third person to require a lot more thought*. Oh, before I go any further.

Disclaimer for Industry professionals.

Now just in case you happen to be a publisher/agent reading this I must stress this is my thoughts about it at the moment and I am always the worst person to make a judgement on my own work. If you find a version of this on your desk it's not cos I've thought, 'well, it's toss but they might like it.' It will be because I have decided I was wrong and have found a lot more than I expected when re-writing.

Return to stream of thought.

Now, there is a lot in this universe I like, I like the central characters, they are gray and I think even the (largely off screen) bad guys are not bad, just doing what they think is right. I have a good array of aliens that I think work without being humans with funny ears. I'm particularly taken with the mechanics of hyper space because I've wangled them into a way of telling the story. And therein lies the problem. Last night, I had an idea, it involved first person, it involves that hyperspace mechanic but now I understand it better it uses it in a much more interesting way. However, it cannot take place in this universe.

I think this new idea might be better. Which makes my 86'000 words redundant. I am going to finish it and hopefully my mind will change but it is an awful feeling. It's also an awful feeling to think I may have wasted six months. Infuriating even, it feels like I am losing the impetus I have built up with the last thing.

Last night I had a nightmare about this. I dreamed I sold the space opera to one publisher and then the other idea sold to a different one. All the reviews of the second one said I was clearly running out of imagination and had become artistically barren. The publishers sued each other for breach of copyright. Ended with me sat in a dark room with publishers and critics on lit podiums staring down accusingly at me. Eventually, I had to give Simon Spanton from Gollancz my dog.

Now, I don't have a dog but I suspect my subconscious was trying to give me some sort of message there.

Anyway, I am probably writing this so I don't have to do anything else so I will stop now. I will finish this project. I will re-write into some form and if this idea hangs around I will do that**.

*By which I mean considering what I am putting on the page rather than just losing myself and suddenly having dashed off reams off words. Last book was the latter, I wrote the 25'000 word first draft in a week of very little sleep and furious industry. And steroids. Maybe, in hindsight, the steroids had something to do with the furious industry.

**well I will add it to the list of ideas and roll a dice for which I do next.

The Balled of Moser-Bin-Alleycat

A long poem about a cat written in a cod 'Arabian Nights' style?  You know you want it.

The Ballad of Mooser Bin Alleycat.

Come! Gather kittens, gather queens.

Here the tale of Mooser-Bin-Alleycat (honoured be his name).

A Prince among felines, a Duke amongst cats.

Truly the best of our kind.

Hail! To Mooser-Bin-Alleycat.

Mooser-Bin-Alleycat (oh blessed are we to know him), rangy and strong,

A Lord of the city, a cat without peer,

Who faced up to the rat-king without tremble or fear.

His fur thick and ginger, his ruff white as snow,

Well muscled and sire to a hundred, or so.

Most beautiful, Mooser-Bin-Alleycat.

The rat-king a fiend, without honour, a beast

Killed kittens for fun and preyed on our least.

“No longer!” Swore Mooser-Bin-Alleycat (Oh protector of the humble).

“No longer,” he cried!

“I shall rid the world of this pest, even should I die.

No kitten shall scream, no queen will cry.”

Oh bravest! Mooser-Bin-Alleycat.

Now, now kittens wide eyed, fear not, hear my tale

Of Mooser-Bin-Alleycat (the strength in our veins), our mightiest male.

Gather close I’ll tell of a fight long and hard.

Of how Mooser-Bin-Alleycat fought the tyrant, the rat.

And how should you need, him, he will return, he’ll come back.

Let us Hail! Mooser-Bin-Alleycat

The time it was set, the challenge laid down,

“Come meet with me Rat-king,

We’ll settle who rules this town.”

And meet they did, in an alley damp and dirty.

Sharp teeth and red eyes, versus claws and our purity.

Defend us! Mooser-Bin-Alleycat.

No small talk, no preamble, they set upon one another,

The rat king a dervish of biting and terror,

Mooser-Bin-Alleycat danced into the fight,

His teeth sharp as swords, his claws quick as light,

The beast of a rat, as big as Mooser himself,

Powerful and strong, a picture of health.

Defend yourself, Mooser-Bin-Alleycat.

Up and down they ranged, clawing and biting

The whole world shook at the sound of their fighting,

Mooser-Bin-Alleycat, for kittens and queens,

Him young and strong, his claws sharp and mean,

The Rat-king realised he had now met his match

Turned tail he and ran and but The Mooser persued.

Avenge us! Mooser-Bin-Alleycat

They ran through the town, over roofs, across roads,

The Rat-king would turn and issue out goads,

“Oh lowliest feline, oh stupidest cat,

Try as you might, you will not catch this rat!”

But catch him he did.

Most Cunning! Mooser-Bin-Alleycat.

In a back street he cornered the cowering rat.

“Your time is upon you,” cried Mooser, but at that.

More rats appeared, first ten then twenty.

“Or your time upon you,” said King rat (his people are plenty).

Poor, doomed Mooser-Bin-Alleycat.

Do you cry, kittens, shed tears poor queens?

Him surrounded by rats you know what this means?

For who amongst, which brave cat could stand?

Against rats by the score, against treachery at hand?

We must pray for him, this prince of a cat,

Betrayed and caught, led into a trap.

What now of Mooser-Bin-Alleycat? (May his memory live on always.)

Surely gone he is, doomed and misled,

No honourable fight this, one-on-one like they said,

Mooser-Bin-Alleycat (may pestilence come upon those who betrayed him)

Against odds without number.

We are worthless! Without Mooser-Bin-Alleycat.

But wait! What is this? What is leaving the alley?

His ears shredded, his fur bloodied and dirty

But his head held High, so noble and strong,

His body scarred, his foes vanquished

May the gods bless us! We were wrong!

Triumphant! Mooser-Bin-Alleycat.

You may wonder, gentle kittens, pretty queens,

What became of Mooser-Bin-Alleycat (may he live long)

He is still there, he still watches, keeps us safe, prowls the alleys.

Keep us safe Mooser-Bin-Alleycat

(who is old now and really, just a teller of stories.).