The Indie Community

I was always a bit of a sceptic when it came to the ‘indie community’. That is, independent writers and artists who come together for support and networking. Many meet through digital forums these days – twitter, facebook and various blogging sites.

To be honest, I believed that this type of social interaction was really only prevalent for musicians and artists. Writers, being of a rather solitary persuasion, I just assumed were not included.

I cannot believe how wrong I was! In the course of a few short weeks, I have met so many writers through facebook groups, by blogging and through friends of friends. We seem to turn up everywhere!!

Self-published, e-published, not yet published and traditionally published authors have welcomed me into what really does feel like a community. It is very supportive, and allows for writers to support each other and promote both themselves and others through the extensive network. I have found myself building links with writers from all over the globe, including North America, Europe and further afield.

Through digital groups, I have also been able to meet other authors who are editing, and in the same position as I am. By sharing skills, critical feedback and contacts, I have started to really gain confidence as an author.

This confidence has allowed me to set up my own author’s facebook page at www.facebook.co.uk/SJMenary, and I am thrilled to have received 54 likes in two days!

Of course, I have a long way to go before I can stand toe to toe with bestselling authors. But, considering that a few months ago, I did not even refer to myself as a writer, I think I have come quite a long way! And it is all thanks to the support of my friends and the indie community.

If you are an aspiring writer, I urge you to go and check out some local groups or digital forums. You never know where you might end up!

The Blood Gate - Chapter 4 extract

They had come in the night. When no one was watching. Out of that dark place that he had been building. Dug too deep, some said. Meddling in bad magic. Little did he know the implications of his folly, and the consequences it would have on his children.

His children. A source of eternal pride and constant disappointment to him. He was a brilliant man, he knew. But a flawed one, also. He had no wish to despise his daughter. He tried to hide it. But she had always known.

The mother of his twins had been a venomous reptile. Such terrible beauty. Such an evil heart to betray him. That slut.

And all daughters turn out just like their mothers, didn’t they?

The girl knew. He was certain. And she was growing to hate him viciously. It was all his doing. But he couldn’t stop it. He was turning his own daughter into a monster. It was a crime. She had always been the brightest of the twins, the most likely to be a worthy successor to his empire. She was the stronger warrior. A superior leader. She outstripped her brother in every way. But he had no choice in the matter. Martinez would succeed him. Martinez was the child he loved more.

As he paced before his creation in that subterranean chamber below the deep lagoon, he wished for a different legacy. He was too old now. Too old to change anything. And for a sorcerer of his calibre to have survived this long, it was nothing short of a miracle. Some younger magician should have killed him by now. Those ambitious new comers seemed so eager to prove themselves these days.

His construction was almost complete. Not even the inner circle at the palace knew the truth about his work. Mortaris preferred it that way. They did not need to know what he was doing. Watching his workmen chiselling away at the sycamore panels for his great door, he observed with a critical eye the standard of the craftsmanship. It had to be perfect. It had a lot to withstand. The silver bands would be here soon, and then the frankincense resins. It would be beautiful when it was done.        

His door to the Underworld. 

The Gates of Hell, The Kunsthaus Zürich, Zurich - image courtesy of www.wikipedia.org.uk