#ReadAroundTheRainbow: Someone insults your main character. How do they react?

Read Around the Rainbow

As you’re probably aware, #RAtR is a blogging project I am doing with a few friends who also write LGBTQIA romance. You can find everyone by clicking here or on the image to the right.

This month we’re talking about how one of our characters might react if they were insulted. This is quite a hard one for me because once I’ve finished writing I tend to let the characters lie and move on to something else. If they have more to say, then I write them another book, or a short story. So… I’ve been having a conniption about this for the last month and now here I am the day before the post is due, sat in a coffee shop still having a conniption.

So… for the purposes of this post I’m going to write about Lew and Alec. They are my very first characters from Lost in Time, the first of the London Calling trilogy and they live in the early 1920s.

Alec’s a police detective, in his mid-thirties. He joined the force as his first job (although his family wanted him to be a barrister) and was a military policeman during the war. He’s a measured sort of person, pretty buttoned up, but he does have a temper. He’s hardened or numbed or scarred, however you want to describe it, by his time at the front like most of his contemporaries.

Lew is a newspaper photographer/journalist. He’s a bit younger than Alec, in his late twenties or early thirties by this point. However, he was born in the mid-1980s. He’s a quiet sort of person too, much less assertive than Alec and with a completely different life direction. He ended up in the 1920s because a magical accident pulled him back through time from 1916 to 1921.

When I started writing Lost in Time in 2016 we were in the middle of the centenary of the First World War. I was very conscious of the men I knew in my childhood who had been through that experience and the stories my grandmother, who lived from 1894 to 2000, told me. In later years I also became friends with Mr AL’s great aunt, who’s father was very twisted out of shape by his wartime experience. Essentially there was a whole generation of men with PTSD. I had the idea that I wanted to contrast that experience with someone born a hundred years later. The time-travel bit in the book was pretty much incidental, a plot device to allow me to explore that contrast, which soon spiralled out of control into a fully fledged universe of hidden magic.

So where does that leave my characters in their reactions to hostility directed toward them?

Alec is definitely on much more of a hair trigger than Lew. There’s a scene in the book where he finally loses his rag with Lew, goes for him physically in the police station and has to be dragged off him. I think I drew that from my conversations with Mr AL’s great aunt, who talked about how her father came home from the war with a drink problem and a terrible temper. Apparently one of the women on their street told her off when she was angry with him, telling her that before the war he was the most gentle, genteel man she’d ever met and it was his experiences that were making things hard for him, and the rest of his family, now. So I’d say that Alec is rather like that; he keeps his trauma bottled up and quite trivial things can set him off. His natural inclination is to be a calm, steady person, but his experiences have made him much more of a loose cannon.

Lew though, is much more sanguine generally. He’s been through the care system, he’s was a journalism student and he hasn’t been through the physical and emotional meatgrinder Alec and his contemporaries have been subject to. He’s pragmatic in the same way Alec is; but his trauma is different. He comes across as a much softer person, although inside he has a core of steel. His reactions are more tempered generally. Yes, he loses his temper. But it’s not cataclysmic for him, it doesn’t leave him feeling blown to pieces afterwards like it does Alec.

Scroll on down to read the snippet from Lost in Time that inspired this post.

Here’s everyone else who wrote this month. Click through to read what they have to say!

Nell Iris : Ofelia Grand : Lillian Francis : Fiona Glass : Amy Spector : Ellie Thomas : Holly Day : K. L. Noone : Addison Albright

Lost in Time: Alec finally loses patience with Lew

(CW: Violence)
They sent a uniform to wait for Tyler at his flat, but in the end, he came to them. Alec watched him walk into the detective pen proud as you please, cap and goggles dangling from one hand, fishing in a leather bag slung cross-wise across his body with the other. He didn’t see Alec until Alec walked right up to him and planted him a facer. 
He stared up from the floor between two desks, kicking backwards as he propped himself up on his elbows against the grubby carpet to escape further blows, eyes slightly glazed from the punch and papers and photographs spilling out from the bag all over the place.
“You lied to me, you bastard.” Alec’s opening lacked style, but it got straight to the point. “You did know him.”
He pulled Tyler up again by the front of his overcoat for the pleasure of slamming him face down on to the nearest desk and wrenching his arm up behind his back. He was driven by an almost unstoppable desire to manhandle him. The other man had been pushing his buttons since they had first crossed paths and both his anger at being lied to and his frustration at the case exploded into furious violence. There wasn’t much space—the office hadn’t been laid out with prize-fighting in mind, a small, calm part of his mind observed—and he ended up with Tyler flat on the table, pressed underneath him with his arm wrenched up behind his back, both gasping for breath.
“You fucker! You lying bastard! Did you kill him? You’ve known him from the start and I’ve been running round like a blue- arsed fly trying to work out what’s going on. What the hell is happening?” He jerked his arm up a bit higher, eliciting a yelp of pain that the other man tried to mute. “Start talking, else I’ll break your arm.”
It felt good to be hurting someone. He stifled the thought.
Tyler’s arse and thighs were taut against him as he held him down and the man shifted uneasily as Alec added more pressure to his arm. He had got like this in France sometimes. Every so often he’d become overwhelmed with the monotonous daily grind of investigating Tommies who’d crossed the line—who’d turned their hand to investigating Tommies who’d crossed the line—who’d turned their hand to a little unsanctioned murder, other than Jerry, of course; or been caught forcing the local girls, or worse. There’d always been something dirty and disgusting he’d been tied up with and it had sickened him. He’d been able to hold it in check for long periods, sometimes longer than others. But eventually, his disgust and frustration had always boiled up from the black, sticky pit of silence he jammed it down into every morning when he first rolled out of his tiny camp-bed and put his feet on the floor.
He’d beat a man unconscious once—he’d been caught forcing a child in one of the little French villages close to the lines and he’d been shot, in the end. But Alec had worked him over first. He’d had to be pulled away by his sergeant. He was ashamed of it. He believed in the rule and process of law; but in France that had been ramshackle at best and he had been as ramshackle as the structure of military discipline within which he’d been working.
The only thing that would empty out the sticky, tarry pit of self-disgust had been violence. Or sex. Or sexual violence. The man underneath him gasped and writhed again and Alec realized he was still putting an almost breaking pressure on his arm and pressing close against his arse. He took a breath and stepped back a little, easing his grip.
“Okay, you bastard!” The man’s language didn’t shock him. “Back the fuck off and let me go and I’ll talk. For fuck’s sake!”
He stepped back another half step and then another and released Tyler’s arm cautiously, tensed for a continued attack. Instead the man pushed himself to his feet and cradled his arm against his chest, turning round and glaring at Alec venomously. “You arse. You didn’t need to do that.” He was clearly in pain. “I knew you’d find out eventually. I needed to check a few things, first.”
Grant stepped up next to Alec and put a hand on his arm. “Perhaps it would be better to take this into your office, sir?” He took a painful grip on Alec’s elbow and propelled him through the door for at least a semblance of privacy. Grant looked at Tyler, who was cradling his twisted arm against his chest and looking decidedly ropey. “You, come here!”

Lost in Time (KU) from the London Calling Trilogy (Box Set)

London Calling release day!

Today is the official release day of London Calling, the box set of my 1920s London Border Magic series! It comprises Lost in Time, Shadows on the Border & The Hunted and the Hind.

To celebrate I have a giveaway! Roll up, roll up! And read all about it!

London Calling Box Set

The London Calling Box Set

Queer British Lovecraftian historical romantic suspense set in 1920s London.

Lew Tyler is dragged from 2016 to 1920 by an accident with border magic whilst he’s searching for his missing friend. He’s struggling to get to grips with life a century before he was born.  Detective Alec Carter is trying to solve gruesome murders in his patch of London, weighed down with exhaustion and a jaded attitude to most of his fellow humans after four years of war. In the middle of a murder investigation that involves wild magic, mysterious creatures and illegal sexual desire, will Alec and Lew work out who is safe to trust?

Sergeant Will Grant, Alec’s right-hand man, is drawn to the mysterious Fenn. Is Fenn a man or a woman? Does Will care? And Fenn…Fenn has a secret. They live beyond the border between 1920s London and the magical Outlands and they need to get home. Are they prepared to achieve that by double crossing Alec, Will and Lew?

Two couples hold the fabric of reality in their hands. Will it make them or break them?

WIN!

To win a copies of the London Calling audiobooks, Lost in Time, Shadows on the Border & The Hunted and the Hind, pop on over to the Audiobook Draw and throw your hat in the ring! Id’ be really grateful if you could share it on social media once you’ve entered if you could bear to…you’ll get more chances to win and more people will see it! (You can also listen to excerpt and buy them here)

Lost in Time,. Shadows on the Border & The Hunted and the Hind audiobook covers

Read an Excerpt

Carter on his doorstep when he got home again was just taking the piss. All Lew wanted to do was climb into his bed and sleep and pretend he was in his comfortable flat-share in 2016 and could wake up and listen to his iPod.
He didn’t even bother to greet Carter this time, just wordlessly locked up the bike and opened the door into the flat so he could come inside. He was glowering again. Lew wished he could say it didn’t suit him. “Come in. Glowering doesn’t suit you.”
Carter grunted wordlessly and suddenly Lew had had enough of it.
“No, honestly. It makes your face all scrunched up—” he demonstrated, “—and I’m sure it’s bad for you. Wrinkles or something.” He couldn’t seem to shut up. Poking a bear would probably have been safer. He wanted to get through to him, though, he wanted to make him growl. The other day and being punched in the face had at least proved Carter had some emotion in there somewhere; he couldn’t feel anything from him, most of the time. He chucked his biking goggles onto the small settee and turned to the kitchen cupboard. “Do you want a drink? I’m having a drink. I’ve had a shit day so far...a shit week, in fact.” He paused, considering, “...maybe even a shitty two years. And so, I’m going to have a drink. You’re welcome to join me.”
He clattered the bottle and a couple of glasses out of the cupboard and smashed them unsteadily down on the counter top. He felt unsteady all over, actually, as if he’d already drunk too much. Adrenaline, and lack of sleep, probably.
He pulled the cork out of the bottle and started to slop spirit into the glasses. Then, all of a sudden, Carter moved to stand close behind him, still not speaking. He hadn’t been expecting it and it made him even more mentally off balance.
He could feel the warmth of the other man’s body through the back of his shirt, although they weren’t touching. He was boxed in by his arms, either side of him, hands flat on the counter. It was shockingly intimate, although Lew didn’t think Carter meant it to be. He meant it to be intimidating. The otherman said, softly, “Tell me. Tell me. Tell me what’s going on. Why have I got more dead men turning up with the same wounds as your friend Fornham?”
Bloody hell. More of them. That was very, very bad. “Get off me.” Lew spoke equally quietly.
There was a pause for a second. “No,” said Carter.
“You don’t know what you’re messing with. Get off me.” Again, that pause.
“No.” His voice was rougher this time.
Lew noticed Carter’s knuckles were white where he was holding the countertop either side of the whisky bottle and the glasses. He shivered.
Suddenly he could feel things coming off Carter after all: the want and the fear and the desperate sense of disgust at himself. The anger and the confusion he felt toward Lew because he wanted Lew and yet he didn’t trust him, with this or with anything, and it was all against his better judgement. The emotions hit him like a wall coming up out of the dark all at once and completely floored him; and he gasped.
Slowly, he pushed the bottle away from him—always with the drink when Carter was around, he absently thought—and turned around, careful not to touch him. They were nearly of a height—he didn’t have to tilt his head much to see that Carter’s eyes were green. Lashes long and dark. He didn’t pull back. It was mid-afternoon and his beard was coming through.
Lew swallowed. “I don’t want to lie to you.”
It came out rougher than he had intended and Carter’s eyes dropped to his mouth.
“Then don’t!” He pulled back angrily and turned away, hands shoving fiercely through his hair. “Tell me what’s going on!”
“Carter...Alistair...” He couldn’t bear the wave of confused anger and emotion coming off the man and he stepped forward and put his hand on his arm, turning him back toward him.
“Alec...”
Carter jerked back as if he’d been burned.

Buy London Calling
London Calling Box Set

British Accents now and then

One of the things I love about working with Callum Hale on my audiobooks is his ability to throw himself into pretty much any British accent and bring the character to life. To my British ear each of the people I’ve created sound exactly as I’ve envisaged them as he brings them off the page.

Lost in Time audio cover

I asked him to make Rob, from Inheritance of Shadows ‘less ooh-arr’ and he toned the accent down so to me at least, Rob doesn’t sound so much like a heavy-handed son of the Somerset soil. And I wanted Will Grant in the 1920s London Trilogy to sound more like Lord Peter Wimsey. Callum obliged, perfectly. (These are my two favourite of all my characters, ever, incidentally).

The question I’m always asking myself about my writing though, is how right can I get it? I want the history in my books to be accurate, unless I’m deliberately twisting the universe out of true with magic. I think this is the same question historians have to ask themselves about looking at anything in the past. We are both looking at things through our own rose-tinted spectacles, coloured with our own experiences and social expectations. My characters in these books grew up in Victorian England. What did they really think about the Empire? What did they talk about in the pub? What did they really sound like? How did they really smell? We’re fudging it, the whole lot. Historians and archaeologists because of lack of data. And writers because of lack of data and because we don’t want our main characters to be unsympathetic to modern audiences.

Anyway…during one or other of my late-night sessions randomly browsing the web, I came across this programme about Edwardian accents. A regional English language specialist in Germany during the First World War, a real-life Professor Higgins, suddenly realised he had a huge pool of untapped research material in the German army’s British prisoners of war. In this documentary you can actually listen to their voices.

Inheritance of Shadows audio cover

I was very interested in how the modern specialists in the programme say the regional accents of the past are broader in the recordings than they are now. It’s as if the rising tide of London-speak has swept the broad vowels of the regional accents back from the centre of the country, into the more remote west of England. So although to me, Rob sounds about right, a farm labourer from Somerset who’s self-educated and likes to read, to his contemporaries he’d probably have sounded out of place. You can listen to Callum’s reading of him here, in the first chapter of Inheritance of Shadows.

I think, listening to those long-ago voices in the programme, it’s important to remember these men were prisoners. That’s one of the filters we mustn’t discard. Were they doing this work in the language lab out of the kindness of their hearts? Because they were bored and wanted an occupation? Because they were threatened in to it? Because they were offered extra rations or privileges? Are these their actual accents? Or are they performative, a joke on the professor? They’re immensely touching, whatever their origin and I hope you enjoy it.

You can buy the 1920s London audiobooks at Authors Direct.

Lost in Time, Shadows on the Border, The Hunted and the Hind by A. L. Lester. Narrated by Callum Hale.

Audiobooks with new covers now available wide!

I have some very exciting news…all three of the 1920s London books are now available wide in audio with new covers!

You can find most of my audiobooks at my Authors Direct page—all three 1920s London books can be bought for $20!—but they are also available wide at Apple, Hoopla, Scribd, LibroFM, Kobo, Chirp etc. and I think Audible have them on Whispersync—I am perpetually confused by how they work. I know some audio-library services are carrying them too. I hope you enjoy listening to them as much as I’ve enjoyed hearing Callum bring the characters to life!

You can listen to the first half hour of Lost in Time here at Bookfunnel.

Now wide in audio, the Lost in Time trilogy by A. L. Lester, narr by Callum Hale. 1920s London, murder, time-travel, grumpy detectives, the blues, magic, non-binary MC, gay romance, tea, elves.

Lost in Time

Lost in Time new audiocover

Gruesome murders taking place across 1920s London draw Lew and Alec together through the desolation of the East End and the smoky music clubs of Soho. They both have secrets that could get them arrested or killed. In the middle of a murder investigation that involves wild magic, mysterious creatures and illegal sexual desire, who is safe to trust?

Not Lew, who is struggling to get to grips with life a century before he was born. Or Alec, who wants Lew in his bed, despite liking him for murder.

You can listen to the first half hour of Lost in Time here at Bookfunnel!

Buy Lost in Time from Authors DirectBuy Elsewhere

#1 in the Lost in Time series. m/m paranormal, historical, romantic suspense of 53,000 words, set in 1920’s London.

Shadows on the Border

Shadows on the Border new audio cover

In 1920s London Lew and his lover Detective Alec Carter are working out the parameters of their new relationship. Lew is torn between staying in the past and trying to get back to 2016. Alec is wrestling with the idea of being in love with a magician. Meanwhile Alec’s sergeant, Will Grant, is drawn to the mysterious Fenn, a hunter from the Outlands.

Moving through the contrasting rich and poor areas of post-First World War London from West End hotels to the London docklands, the team need to work together to prevent more killings and choose what — and who — they may need to give up to find any kind of peace.

Buy Shadows on the Border from Authors DirectBuy Elsewhere

#2 in the Lost in Time series. m/m and m/enby paranormal, historical, romantic suspense of 58,000 words set in 1920s London. Sequel to Lost in Time, which should be read first.

The Hunted and the Hind

The Hunted and the Hind new audio cover

Inadvertently tumbling through the border into the Outlands after Fenn, Sergeant Will Grant of the Metropolitan Police has spent three months imprisoned by the Frem. When Fenn frees him, they step through the border to the Egyptian desert. It’s a two week ocean-liner journey back to England, with the possibility of magical pursuit. Will the journey give Fenn and Will time to resolve the feelings they have been dancing around since the day they met?

Buy The Hunted and the Hind from Authors DirectBuy Elsewhere

#3 in the Lost in Time series. m/enby paranormal, historical, romantic suspense of 40,400 words set in 1920s London. Sequel to Lost in Time and Shadows on the Border, which should be read first.

Three audiobook covers, Lost in Time, Shadows on the Border, The Hunted and the Hind.

The Hunted & the Hind: Editing sometimes means losing the good bits

Another post about The Hunted and and Hind, including a big deleted scene this week. I have just finalised the audiobook with Callum and so it will be going up to Findaway Voices in the next week or two and appearing at all your favourite online retailers soon after that.

Audiobook cover, The Hunted and the Hind

Hunted is the third in my 1920s London trilogy that began with Lost in Time. They are historical books with a paranormal twist and Hunted is the one with the most paranormal shenanigans and therefore, for me, the most difficult to write. Eventually it came in at just over forty thousand words, edited down from just over fifty.

It was so, so painful to cut out all those words I’d hammered out in the early mornings last summer and I really felt like I’d wasted my time. I’d got sucked down a rabbit-hole of too much fantasy world—in all my other books, not just the 1920s ones, the paranormal world is glimpsed from this one and is supposed to be a tip-of-the-iceberg type arrangement where neither characters nor readers can see all of it. But at the end of Shadows on the Border, poor Sergeant Will Grant got sucked through the border (or maybe he jumped through?) after Fenn, who was returning home. I knew I wanted them to be together, but I also felt it was a cop-out to just have them pop back into 1920s London from Fenn’s world at the beginning of the next book as if they’d hidden in a cupboard for a while and then re-emerged.

I ended up writing quite a bit of what turned into backstory or maybe an alternate timeline set in Fenn’s world. A few of the scenes have ended up in the finished book, but a lot of them were cut—this one for example and the one below. And the not-popping-out-of-a-cupboard problem was solved by having them re-emerge from Fenn’s world in Egypt and having a two week journey back to England.

Luckily this has given me lots and lots of deleted scenes to share! The only thing I kept in the final book from this one is the lim-moss that provides the lighting. Here it is! And do keep an eye out for the audio book in the next few weeks if you are an audio type of person!

Deleted Scene

Cover of The Hunted and the Hind

Will leaned his head back against the wall. It was lovely to be properly warm. He didn’t think he’d been warm in all of his body at once since they’d come through the Border. “I fell.” He stated the obvious. “I fell and I put my shoulder out. I, er. I rather lost track for a bit.”
Fenn was looking at him with that steady, slightly unnerving gaze. “Come, Will. Come and bathe.” He extended a hand and Will grasped it, grateful for the help getting up. Fenn was in some sort of loose robe affair, not quite dressing gown, not quite thobe. Will still wore the remnants of his slacks and shirt.
“Let me help you?” Fenn asked him.
“Yes. All right.” He could do with the help. Fenn stepped close and put his hands inside the padded coat, on his shoulders as he slid it off down Will’s arms. He laid it on the stone bench beside them. Then he started to unbutton Will’s shirt, fumbling a little with the tiny mother of pearl buttons. Will half-shut his eyes and enjoyed not having to think of anything. “That should probably be burned.” he commented as Fenn laid that aside too. “It all should, really. I’ve been wearing it for days”.
“It is certainly not in the cleanest of conditions.” There was a smile in Fenn’s voice as he put his hands on Will’s belt. “This next?”
“I can do it.” Will’s voice was not quite steady as he took over. There was something very comforting about letting Fenn look after him. Dangerous, his hind brain told him. Dangerous to get used to it.
“Very well.” Fenn waited for him to push his trousers down and step out of them and then started unbuttoning his combinations, gently easing them over his duff shoulder. “There. It hurts?”
“Not as much as it did.” He scrunched his face up. “I’m almost getting used to it, it’s been in and out so much.” He carefully pushed his underwear down to his ankles and stepped out, naked.
“Come.” Fenn took his elbow and guided him down some shallow steps in to the pool. The warm water lapping higher around him was an almost erotic pleasure. He sighed. The pool was about chest depth and large enough to comfortably float and splash about. There seemed to be a sunken stone bench around the edges. Fenn drew him to it and sat beside him. The light was coming up from underneath.
“What’s causing the light?” he asked, with idle curiosity.
“We call it lim-light. It’s a kind of moss. We use it everywhere – you just need a little piece of it and it spreads steadily. Very convenient.” Fenn laid his head back on the edge of the pool and sunk down a little further, shutting his eyes. “Graces, I missed this. Your people do not have good baths, Will Grant.”
He sounded so complacent that Will chuckled a little. He could feel the aches soaking out of him already. He splashed Fenn with a small wave that lapped over his face, making his silver eyelashes clump together as he laughed softly and opened his lids a little, directing his sleepy gaze at Will, eyes still protected by that inner eyelid. “It is true. You know it is true. Since, since the Romans! You have not had proper baths.”
Will snorted at that. “You aren’t allowed to read my mind in order to be smug at me.” He chided.
“It was on the surface. You were shouting.” Fenn shut his eyes again, glimmer of humour fading. “You did not ask me about Keren.”
“No.” Will was solemn now, too. “No. I didn’t. I just assumed. When you didn’t come back. Is he still alive?”
“No. No, he is not. He tried to escape when he realised that I could not come back and the carnas got him by the shimmer, out at the Eastern Point, where I first went through. Malach said it was quick.” He passed a hand over his lashes, rubbing dampness off them. “I loathe Malach. I always have. They are always so reasonable.” He sat up and pushed off with his feet, moving to the other side of the pool, unable to stay still. “I understand their position. Of course I do. But to use my sibling to force me in to something I would have done regardless.” He put his hands over his face. “I am at a loss, Will.”
Will stood too and went over to him, waist deep in the warm water. What could he say? There was nothing to say to a man who’s brother, little more than a child, had been killed by those things. And for no reason. Just another senseless death. He found that he had said it aloud. “A senseless death.” He put his hand on Fenn’s shoulder, a firm, comforting grip.
Fenn moved closer, resting his head on Will’s shoulder, his hand on Will’s neck to hold him close. Will brought his other arm around him and clasped him tightly, in silence. It was perfectly peaceful in the cavern, like this. No sound except the deep green lapping of the water and the steady breathing of two people who had lost more than either of them deserved. Fenn stepped back a little, opening up the space between them. “For all that you have done for me, Will Grant …” he raised his gaze from the surface of the pool and met Will’s as he stretched out a hand and very lightly touched Will’s wet shoulder. The water droplets glimmered with lim-light as he removed his hand. Will shut his eyes briefly at the intensity of the sensation. When he opened them again, Fenn was watching him. His nictating membrane was open in the dim light of the cavern and the beech green of his eyes was as startling as the first time Will had seen it. Neither of them moved. They were both breathing as if they had been running. “For all that you have done for me, Will … I am thankful.” His voice was lower than before.
He dropped his eyes to his fingers as he raised them out of the water again to Will’s shoulder, running them slowly down over his pectoral to his nipple. Will watched too, biting his lip and concentrating on keeping his breath steady. The long, elegant fingers circled around the little peak, pearled with water. “Fenn.” He said.
“Will.” Will could hear the hunger in his voice, hidden under a smile.

The Hunted and the Hind is now in audio