Bore Da

Bore Da is Welsh for Good Morning. Of course you may be reading this post in the afternoon or evening, or even, if you are an insomniac or a vampire, in the middle of the night.

But as I write this in my home in Cymru, it’s ten o’clock in the morning. Blackbirds are singing, sparrows are chirping, jackdaws are cawing and herring gulls are screeching like badly-tuned giant kazoos.

So I repeat: Bore Da!

Since this is my first post in my Vale of Glamorgan category I thought I’d start with something proper Welsh: a dragon. I happened to see one only last evening.

I was on my way to my local writers’ group when I spotted the creature, shrouded in smoke, bumbling over a nearby hilltop. You’re lucky: I managed to snap this photo before it flew off again.




I write novels and short stories, mainly in the genre of speculative fiction. A quick online search offers me the following definitions of this term:

1. Speculative fiction: a genre of fiction that encompasses works in which the setting is other than the real world, involving supernatural, futuristic, or other imagined elements.
2. Speculative fiction is a broad umbrella genre denoting any narrative fiction with supernatural or futuristic elements; this encompasses the genres of science fiction, fantasy, horror, supernatural fiction, science fantasy, and superhero fiction, as well as combinations of the previous genres.

My first novel, which will be published later this year by Kristell Ink publishing, falls neatly in that category. It’s kind of horror, but not really. It could also be labelled paranormal fiction. Or even dark fantasy. At least, that’s what I think.

Obviously once the book is out I will announce that on this blog, with digital drum rolls if I can find any, and I hope you’ll buy it, read it, and enjoy it. If you do, perhaps you can let me know how you would classify ‘Gwithyas’- Door to the Void.

Here’s the ‘blurb’, and a glimpse of the cover art.

Zircon Gwithyas just wants to be a normal teenager, preferably one with a girlfriend. If you’re a spotty nerd with glasses as thick as jam jars, that isn’t easy.
It’s even harder when you live in a derelict manor on a haunted hill with a bunch of spooky eccentrics for a family, and the object of your affection is an irritable sword-wielding college student.
It becomes virtually impossible when you are dragged into a dark, chaotic semi-reality where your moderately-deceased ancestors expect you to save the world from a horde of grotesque demons with a fondness for torture.