All posts by Martyn K Jones

Have been a writer of stories of science fiction and the paranormal for quite some time. From a first article published in 1978, and despite getting enough rejection slips to wallpaper an entire twenty bedroom country mansion, still writing. Six books so far, with more to come. Lives in western Ireland. Keeps bees. Likes dogs.
Memories

What sparked my passion for space?


Got one of those occasional ‘question’ emails from the planetary society, and it rather brought me up short. In the Stars Trilogy I write about space technologies and how they might change the future of humanity, but where did I get started? What made me want to write about it? So I’ve decided to send the planetary society this as my answer.

What sparked my passion for Space and space travel? The first thing that springs to mind is timing. I was born in 1957 at the very beginning of the ‘Space Age’. The year the Soviet Union put Sputnik into orbit and lifted the eyes of the world up into the great nowhere, above mere terrestrial squabbles. Since then, man has taken his first faltering steps off the planet. Sent satellites into orbit, sent men and women outside the thin layers of our biosphere into the unforgiving near vacuum beyond. Created global communications relays. Landed craft on Mars (Mariner, Viking, Pathfinder, Spirit, Opportunity and Curiosity) and Venus (Venera, Pioneer). Dropped a probe into Jupiters maelstrom of an atmosphere. Skimmed the tails of comets. Men and women have gone into orbit (Soyuz, Mercury, Gemini, Shuttle) and even landed on the moon (Apollo). The Hubble and Kepler orbital observatories, to mention but two, have helped expand our knowledge of the Universe almost all the way back to its very genesis.

The second thing for me was Science Fiction. The worlds created by Anderson, Asimov, Bester, Harrison, Heinlein, Niven, Van Vogt, to name but a few. Their visions sparked off my own desire. If I was never going to be an Astronaut or pilot (Eyesight issues), I at least wanted to write about it.

Space exploration has formed a palpable background to my life, and continuously fired my curiosity about more than mere terrestrial matters. Its constant round of discovery formed the background noise of my childhood, adolescence and adulthood. The dream of space travel has never ceased to fill me with wonder. I say this as a self confessed, dyed in the wool cynic of over fifty five years of age who has never worked in Aerospace.

The sheer scale of the awesome and continual endeavour that is space exploration, driven as it is by little more than mans indomitable curiosity, is nothing short of inspiring. In order to find our place in the universe we needs must reach out to find where we have not come from, in order to compare our origins with other places which failed to bring forth the miracle of life. Or may yet be discovered to harbour life.

We are fragile beings on a small, and possibly unremarkable world in the greater cosmic scheme of things. However, we need to find out if this is true by looking outwards, because unless we look, we will not know. That is what sparks my passion for space exploration. Whatever answers we find.

New discoveries about the universe around us flood in every single day. So much so, it is often very hard simply to keep up. While this might discourage some and overwhelm others, it simply makes me want to know more. To see more. To feel more. To read more. To comprehend more and not rely on the blind insistence of others. To be more alive. Space exploration is the triumph of inquisitiveness over ignorance, the bringer of light from outer darkness. To me, it is the very personification of hope.

Astronomy

Sun dogs and moon haloes


Yesterday afternoon I went in for my evening shift, and as I was driving up the parkway from Duke point, was treated to the sight of two perfect little squarish chunks of rainbow twenty two degrees on either side of the setting sun. No parhelic circle, just two small bite size chunks of rainbow. As the sun disappeared behind the tree clad mass of Mount Benson, the two sundogs could clearly be seen, perched cheekily on the shoulders of the mountain as though taking a breather.

Last night was also a good one for a moon halo. As I stepped out of the car after work I was treated to a good one, A perfect ring of iron around the full moon. If the weather holds, we may see the same again tonight.

General musings, Technology

New site page


Working on the next volume in the Stars trilogy, I’m also currently adding to this web site. The latest addition is an overview page for ‘The Sky full of Stars’, which is the first volume in the series. At over 150,000 words it’s a weighty read, and probably overlong, but it tells the tale I wanted to tell. Another overview page for ‘Falling through the stars’ is also now up.

Over the weekend, Angie and I had a long talk about what was happening in our relationship, and how the frustrations of the past two years have been wearing me down emotionally. Angie, being the wise and wonderful woman that she is, agreed with me on a partial solution. A seventy pound punchbag. Below are pictures of punchbag after hauling it up two flights of stairs, and rigged ready for use. I only use the outdoors lash up when it’s dry, and haul it in after each and every use, which in itself is good exercise, and I feel better than after trying to run. Running is bad for my injured left knee, and thumping a punchbag lets me work up a quick and dirty sweat without putting too much strain on my knees old rugby sustained injury.

As you can see, all this pent up violence has my poor dog terrified.
We’ve also booked a much needed spa break over Christmas. We both need it.

Stars Trilogy

Who is….?


Just in case anyone wants a short but pithy description of five of my lead characters, I’ve added an extra page under the ‘Stars Trilogy’ tab under the title “Who is….?” I did some silhouette artwork, which looks okay. so if anyone happens to be passing………..

I like the way the drop down menu works off the ‘Stars Trilogy’ tab.

Revised and cheaper versions of both ‘Sky’ and ‘Falling’ should be available shortly.

Video

Playing with ideas


While Angie is recovering and driving me a little nuts because she’s bored as all get out, I thought I’d distract myself and have a little play with Windows Movie Maker. The result is the video above. Like it, don’t like it, no problem, but the song is one of my all time favourites, and the photo collages are all created from public domain images.

Sure, the sound / image synchronisation isn’t that brilliant, but with the tools available, I’m modestly pleased with the end result.

General musings

Nice to know I’m appreciated


Came back from late shift last night to find the following little missive on my laptop. Angie had been up and around, exercising her new hip, and decided that I needed a little morale boost.

Still not got the oomph back to get to the keyboard in earnest, but it’s nice to know all the other things I do are appreciated.

General musings

A rough year


Just finished my shift yesterday, and was having a talk with my work buddy, who, when I spoke about the latest developments in my life, vouchsafed; “You’ve had a rough year.”

In real terms I’m sure other people have had it far worse, but for me life has been a bit of a ride these past two years. What with the death of a close friend, playing unhappy host to visiting high dependency family. Angies first hip replacement. The struggle to finish the second volume of the Stars trilogy. Angies second hip and all the internal agony of watching her in pain for so long. Running her errands, washing and grooming while she’s fresh out of hospital. Housework. The infernal grinding effort to keep the family budget balanced when I’m not making much. Never more than pennies for myself. At times like these, Larkins adage “Life is slow dying” seems more than appropriate.

Today, how tired I truly feel hit me like a rock in the face. All the coffee in the world doesn’t seem to help. Angie thinks I need a ‘project’. I think she’s bored as all get out. We need a time out.

On the other hand, not all is darkness. I’ve amused myself watching the antics of our local colony of Rufous Hummingbirds. I’ve reloaded the feeder and seeing as they stay year round at our location, will keep it topped up throughout the late Fall and Winter. They’re elusive little tinkers to photograph with the Camera I’ve got, and so far all I have are the relative low-res images below:

There is a truth in all the above. Nothing lasts, and all bad things pass eventually. I remain guardedly optimistic for the future. Now I must make tea.

Observations

Home and Curry


Angie is home, now kitted out with a new hip joint and currently up to the gills with painkillers. She’s tucked up nice and cosy in bed. There’s a roaring fire in the stove, and the house feels like a home once more. Overall I’m feeling a whole lot more relaxed.

To celebrate her return I made one of my home made curries with home baked Naan bread. Being a bit lazy with the curry I simply chopped up a pound of cardboard chicken (Skinless, boneless, flavourless – I don’t like it, but Angie does), used up my last jar of Sharwoods and chucked in half a teaspoon of dried chilli flakes, which gave it sufficient heat. Basmati rice was also prepared (1 half cup Basmati rice, one and a quarter cups of cold water, bring to boil until almost all water is gone, then take off heat and stick a cloth over the pan for the rest of the water to evaporate). Mango Chutney, check. The Naan bread took a little experimentation, as my oven only goes up to 500 Fahrenheit, and leaving the yoghurt out of the recipe might have been a mistake as the texture was a little stiff. However, we live and learn. It was close enough for government work, as the saying goes. After her bout with vomiting due to a painkiller reaction, the Curry went and stayed down. For this small mercy I am truly grateful.

With regard to opiates, I remember a compound called Prochlorperazine (Proprietary name Stemetil) which is useful when administering opiates as it reduces the nausea. Working on what would nowadays be called an Oncological ward for a few weeks, palliative patients often had a mixed dose of Stemetil with their Diamorphine to cut down the drug dreams and vomiting whilst reducing cancer pain. When Angie was having her first bout of vomiting I asked the nurse if Stemetil was still in use, and was told it was restricted to palliative care. Or as I recall a senior nursing officer say in the 1980’s; “They’re dying anyway, so it really doesn’t matter if they (The patients) become junkies.” Which is a refreshingly pragmatic view of the world.

What with all associated shenanigans, running errands to drug stores, keeping friends and family informed, and general caring for my wife while she is indisposed, all writing on major projects has ground to a halt. Apart from the blog. This is only a temporary state of affairs, and as soon as Angie is well on the mend and fully self care capable, I will be torturing the English language with my facinorous prose. As usual.

Events

Toughing it out


Up at four yesterday, getting Angie into hospital for her second hip replacement was a chore. Nonetheless, in these circumstances I try to fill the unforgiving minute with work. By seven in the evening I was shattered. Seeing Angie come out of recovery onto the ward in serious pain didn’t help. She was shrieking in agony when the nursing staff got her into bed and told me, quite bluntly, to get the hell out of the room. The sight of her in such agony freaked me out and has left me more than a little shaken. The muscles at the back of my skull bunched with the tension, and are only starting to unwind the following morning. All that and a midday shift at work too.

Currently feel like I’ve taken a minor kicking. Muscles wound up and knotted with the nervous tension. Various aches and pains from a restive night. Most unpleasant.

I will visit Angie after todays shift. She’ll have had a good twenty four hours plus to come past the initial post op pain, and a regimen of painkillers will be in place. I am confident that she will be fine. I think. I’ve got all the mobility aids she will need while in recovery when she gets home, and we have a trip to San Diego planned for Christmas as a post-hip replacement treat. Nothing major, just a well earned time out. Our first Christmas to ourselves in five (Ten?) years.

In the physical world, all the clouds that loured upon this house are in the deep bosom of the ocean buried, and the sun is finally shining. According to forecast, we have a few days of this before the rains close in again. The ducks are no longer in hiding. It could be worse. It’s Fall.

Nothing from Harper Vector on the first Cerberus as yet, either yea or nay. Although the longer the wait, the more a ‘nay’ seems likely. Any day now I’m expecting a curt ‘Not what we’re looking for’ e-mail. I wasn’t really expecting anything out of the submission. It was a ‘cattle call’, as they say in showbiz circles. Another day, another rejection. Yawn. Moving on.

Observations

Struggling a little.


It’s raining yet again. Angie is in hospital, and I’m trying not to think about it. South of the border there are elections which will have a spin off effect economically up here in BC. All of this is eclipsed in my mind by the latest development regarding the nature of light. Is a photon a particle or a wave? Or even a wave function that mimics a particle? Or both?

Writing about phenomena that rely on the nature of the underlying universe is a struggle sometimes. No sooner have you penned an elegant piece about how this can be seen to be a function of that, down where the quarks come out to play, than some clever type comes up with a theory that shoots your whole premise down in flames. So back to the drawing board. The good news is that so far my stories have held up against new developments in physics and astronomy. Planets have been found around stars a reasonable educated guess might have surmised. The nature of the universe, and the standard model of physics seems to be holding its ground, so no issues there.

Now I would like it to stop raining, please. Even the ducks are taking cover.

General musings

The missing Cerberus story


Experimental Artwork for “On Bridges’ Burning” Cover
By George I think I’ve got it! The missing volume from the Cerberus story arc. I knew there was something missing, but I’ve got enough notes for plot and storyline, and this is the result. I think I’ll leave ‘Shifting States’ as the last of the series. It has that apocryphal end of an era feel about the story. Bad guys confronted, demons rescued from savage maidens, final denouement and all that racy stuff.

Angie thinks the image is a bit strange because iron bridges don’t burn and the flames are the wrong size. I think it’s a piece of slightly surreal cover art. Overall, not bad, but I’ll leave it up until a better idea comes along.

Events

Issues


There are things in life I don’t like to think about. Things which cause me emotional pain. Things like Angie going into hospital for hip surgery on the 6th. I don’t like the thought of that at all.

While my imagination is quite gleefully capable of recounting things in graphic detail like all forms of blood and gore I’m not happy about real life dismemberment and how fragile and tenacious our flesh is. All of which I have seen in real life, so it’s not as though I’m a complete stranger to the ideas. Where there’s a car crash or a roadside death, I’m the impatient guy who wants you to move quickly on and not rubberneck. Why? Let’s just say Death and I are old acquaintances. Not the friendly sort, but the kind you want to cross the road to avoid, eyeing each other suspiciously.

One career item I don’t like to dwell on is my sojourn as a student nurse back in the early 80’s. What a complete train wreck of a career choice that was. Took me a few years to get over the emotional fallout. Just lost my Dad, so I was still pretty shaky emotionally at the time I started. Worked on various wards, in Emergency facing addicts, RTA casualties and drunks. Nursed physically and mentally subnormal children (Or should that be ‘challenged’, or some other soft fascist euphemism – poor little things). Saw people die up close and personal, knowing there was nothing I could do about it. Gave ‘last offices’ to three people who I’d grown to like. Maybe I even helped save a few lives, I don’t know. Gave comfort to a few. Even while I personally was going to pieces. Did that make me weak? I tried not to be.

What really eats at me about Angie’s forthcoming operation is that I know exactly what goes on and it haunts me. The spotlit line of blood on antiseptic yellowed skin as the first cut is made. Welling red quickly swabbed up and bleeding cauterised with little smoking fizzes (Do they still use diathermy?). Muscles rapidly transected down to the bloody red of the periosteum and white of bone. The impersonal tug of retractors, the gaping red mouth of the incision, and the awful, magnified dentist drill buzzing of the compressed air saw as it cuts through bone. My wife’s bones. Angies Head of femur. Angies hip socket. I can’t shrug it off because I’ve seen it happen several times. Even been scrubbed to ‘manipulate’ the patients leg twice, standby scrub / swab count twice each (I think, it was a long time ago) and the thought of her being sliced open cuts my heart about as though it were happening to me. The empathic pain doesn’t burn, it aches, it stabs, it crushes, and she’s going into operating theatre and I dare not think about it, yet I can do little but.

Did I say nursing was a poor career choice for me? Man, I must have been dumber than a truckload of five pound lump hammers to even think of it. Why? Too much imagination. Too vulnerable. I actually, physically feel the pain of others. If there’s an opposite to psychopath, that’s me. It’s why I can write Paul Calvin as a character, and identify with someone who sees all the pain of the world and tries to help. Even when he can’t.

I love my wife very dearly. I hate it when she’s ill. I hate it when she’s in pain. Yet she has to have this dismemberment inflicted upon her to prevent more pain. To return her mobility and let her walk properly again. Yet my heart is awash as though a hurricane load of rain has been dumped on it, and there’s nothing I can do. Did I say I hate this? Forgive me being rhetorical or even sarcastic, but the memories run dark red and bloody and I must try to rise above them. Angie needs me to be strong for her, even when I’m not; and there are times like these when I am not strong at all.

There may be a writing hiatus. I may simply pitch in to another writing marathon just to stop me thinking about it. A flood of words to wash away thoughts of her pain.

I know one thing for certain.

All the Zen in the world isn’t going to help.

Technology

Master of my own domain


While the muse has deserted me, mid murder scene, I’m doing what I normally do in these circumstances, which is simply to find myself something non-keyboard related while my subconscious mulls things over. Today I am building Angie a wine rack and also have taken the step of registering my own domain name for this site and the ‘Martyn Jones’ brand name, martynkjones.com. There’s also a new Facebook page which is completely public without my youngest daughters weird and wonderful collection of pictures making an appearance. There are a few odd code glitches at the moment, like the ‘like’ button being inoperative, but I’ll fix that in the next few days or so.

Sites exclusively for the Stars trilogy and Paul Calvin novels will follow. As will a picture of the completed and filled wine rack.

Stars Trilogy

Revision, revision, revision


Took a look at the price of one of my hardbacks on Lulu and decided that the First Editions are just too damn expensive. So I’ve been busy reformatting the text and tidying up some punctuation errors that somehow missed the proofing process. 155,000 words is a lot of reading, and although I still like what I’ve done, to be honest I’ve read the damned thing so many times that I don’t want to read it any more.

However, I’ve slimmed it down from 479 pages to 339, and will be reissuing all editions at a hopefully lower price. I know I’ve spent over five years on the story, and despite forward moves in science and technology it hasn’t dated, but to be honest I want to move on.