Zharazin dropped the binoculars. They hit the rail before him and cracked a lens with a sharp retort, which made him start. There was a brief, awful moment in which he knew he was dead and his feet briefly paddled air. He grabbed for the balustrade’s remains in front of him as he felt himself tip sideways. On his waist his rope harness creaked and the binoculars suddenly dragged on the back of his neck as they fell to the length of their strap – if not a fall then a hanging. For a few moments he was a scrabbling, panicking animal until his hands became sure the stone in front was not leaning, but strong, and his feet found the pitons he’d taken such pains to drill into position. He pressed his cheek to the cold rock, eyes closed, and saw behind the lids that revelatory moment once again; the triumphant tearing away of the headpiece, the self-satisfied shake of the head releasing all that coiling black hair, the utterly unexpected familiarity of that face.
Attended Clarion West in 1996. Now published, with nine novels and a short story collection out in UK/USA and Europe. Two children under ten, partner, cat. Don't know what else to put.
Quantum Gravity series: UK published by Orion, USA published by PYR.
I am working on a science fiction/fantasy novel, an MM romance, and five short stories at the moment. Short pieces vary between hard, realistic science fiction and wilder, more out-there stuff.
Minimum 2,000 words per day, on any current project, preferably the contracted novel--but anything will do as long as it's progress. Not counting any words on meta activities (blog, tweet, etc.)