Kell's Legend

drinking?
    Absolutely fucking everything.
    Favourite possession?
    My BMW GS1200 motorbike. I have something of a Ewan McGregor/Charlie Boorman Long Way Round obsession. Ask my wife.
    Last dream of note?
    It was actually, and honestly, a dream that I’m going to turn into a novel. A kind of Urban Fantasy for the Shotgun Generation.
    Favourite item of clothing?
    My clogged para-boots. It has been oft claimed that I am far from the pinnacle of fashion, what with my knife-cut army combats and faded South Park t-shirts, but at least my smart designer shirts are better than those of a certain other editor I worked with in the past, who shopped for his clothes in Asda. Haha.
    Would you write full-time if you could?
    I do, and whilst sometimes it’s totally great, sometimes I get cabin-fever and start to pull out hair, gnash teeth and drag my werewolf claws through the plaster. Then I know it’s time for some human interaction.
    Do you plan in detail or set off hopefully?
    I plan in detail, then see where it takes me. If it shifts, I change the plan. I hate writing blind.
    What’s the view from your writing window?
    My house has “open aspects to rear”, as they say, so it’s mainly fields and a few trees and hedgerows. There are foxes, rabbits and bats at dusk. It is veryeuphoric and intoxicating, especially (cough) after a few whiskies.
    Where would you like to be right now?
    New York City, driving a Ferrari. NYC is my favourite place on Earth. There’s this scurrilous rumour about how I stayed at the Waldorf Astoria wearing British army combats and a hoodie amidst people in tuxedoes, and I have to hang my head in shame and say it was totally true.
    When & where were you happiest?
    At the birth of my two boys. Without question, the two most intense, frightening and wonderful moments of my life. Obviously my wife was there as well, but she was high on pethadine, the lightweight. Ha ha.
    Complete this sentence: Rewriting is…
    Superb fun, a necessity, and an integral part of the writing process.
    Complete this sentence: I owe it all to…
    Myself. I am my own hardest task master, and without my own focus and motivation over so many years when the going was tough, I never would have achieved. So. Pat on the back, Remic. Thanks, mate. Here, have a whisky. Thanks again, buddy.
    What advice would you give to an aspiring writer?
    Be completely anal about every sentence you write, make sure you get it right, work harder than hard andbe as persistent as a terrier on a firm leg. Stephen King gives excellent advice in his On Writing, and what I like about King’s book is that it’s totally down to earth, realistic, and lacking in bullshit. The best piece of advice good old Kingy gives is “omit needless words”, so I shall say the same. Omit needless words. Trim the trash. Cut the crap. Make your prose sparkle! And never, ever give up!!
    What are you going to do right now when you’ve finished this ordeal?
    Take the dog for a walk up to Peel Tower. She is a young Border Collie, mad with energy, and if I don’t at least try and burn the bitch out, she’ll be jiggling and bouncing all bloody day long—and thus stopping me from writing.
    And believe me, the second Clockwork Vampire Chronicles book is going so well! It will blow you away.

THE SAGA OF KELL’S LEGEND
The mighty Kell stood proud upon sandy shores, He’d willingly cast out a palace of bores, He pondered on glory of merciless days, As lounged by his feet decadent poets sang praise, But now his axe of old lay down by his side, A weapon of terror and worthy genocide, As the sea sweet her whisper carried o’er to him, Her voice a bright loving invitation to swim, Eternal bed, quoth she, I bring long soothing sleep, Come to me my darling, now please don’t you weep;
    Our hero of old, he felt not the dread, Of the battles gone by, of the children now dead, He dreamt of the slaughter at Valantrium Moor, A thousand dead foes, there could not be a cure Of low evil ways and bright terrible deeds, Of men turned bad, he’d harvest the weeds, His mighty axe hummed, Ilanna by name, Twin sharp blades of steel, without any shame For the deeds she did do, the men she did slay,Every living bright-eyed creature was legitimate prey;
    Kell waded through life on a river of blood, His axe in his hands, dreams misunderstood, In Moonlake and Skulkra he fought with the best This hero of old, this hero obsessed, This hero turned champion of King Searlan Defiant and worthy a