I'm Martin Owton, from Camberley, Surrey.
Since 1994 when I picked it up again after messing around in bands.
Always was from the age of 9 or 10
I attend Rushmoor writers and The T-Party. Started with both of them in 1997.
For support, critique and networking and now to pay it forward to newer writers.
Their support, that I’m not crazy trying to get my work professionally published. Secondly that by learning to analyse why other people’s stories don’t work and what they need to change to make them work makes one a better writer.
SF/F – This is primarily what I read and know how the genre works.
Lit fiction, inspirational. I am a plot-driven writer and prefer books to have a complete story arc.
I did my learning with short stories before becoming mainly preoccupied with novel length fiction. I used to write song lyrics when I was in bands.
25 short stories, mostly paid, some in pro-level US magazines.
Represented by Shiel Land Associates. First novel did not get picked up by publishers, second novel about to go out to them.
I would consider it, but the major difficulty is making your work stand out from the endless sea of self-published works, most of which are not very good.
I write mostly in the late evening after I’ve had all day to chew over what happens next.
I like to have about half to story before I start and then expect the rest of it to grow.
I have several people who read my early drafts before the 2nd draft goes to my writing groups.
Misheard names, people I’ve known across the years.
Many influences from Alister MacClean/Hammond Innes type thriller to David Gemmell and Glen Cook.
Not as yet.
Yes, a few nothing significant.
Fix it in the rewrite.
Just do it.
Getting a new idea. Struggling through that period about half way through a story when it feels like it isn’t turning out right.
Used to play a lot of sports, run pub quizzes.
‘The Devil You Know’ by Mike Carey.
Mostly I read the opposition, plus historical non-fiction.
Sequel to my first novel (that failed to sell) while I wait to see if my second novel is going to get picked up.
Squire Hardcastle tethered his horse to the post beside the horsetrough at the corner of the marketplace and paused to brush the dust off his coat.
“Mind him for us lad.” He tossed a farthing to a cross-eyed boy who sat nearby and set off up a side street of handsome stone houses. He stopped at a doorway and peered suspiciously at the small brass plate on the wall; it read Office of the College of Wizards. He tugged on the bellpull beside the plate and waited. Presently the door opened and an elderly woman conducted him inside.
The interior smelt pleasantly of lavender and the beeswax polish that had evidently been lavished on the wall-panelling and floorboards of the corridor. Squire Hardcastle could feel the maid’s disapproval boring into the back of his head as his hobnailed boots scuffed across the floor. The corridor ended at a door which was equally as well polished. He knocked gently on it just below the plate that read J. Hoskins, Clerk to the Wizards.
© Martin OwtonThank you Martin.