narrative styles – Lights In The Sky

Having your mind made up for you

By C Stevens | 26th February 2021 | Comments 0 Comment

I don’t normally blog twice in any one month, but this time my hand has been forced. Reading the Guardian online yesterday I noticed that a novelist I have read (and have a certain regard for) Kazuo Ishiguro, has a new book out. All well and good, but the problem lies in the title, as his new book is called Klara and the Sun. I read the article and noted that, sure enough, Klara is some kind of robot!

Now at this point I need to point out that my Klara is a character originally introduced in my fourth Lights in the sky novel, The leftover girl, which makes her roughly five years old. While it’s entirely possible that Mr Ishiguro was already writing his recently-published novel five years ago, the chances are that I got there first. I originally took the name ‘Klara’ from another science fiction novel, Gateway, by the late Fred Pohl. In this novel Klara is the protagonist’s dead lover, and (if my memory serves me correctly) serves a similar narrative function to Kris Kelvin’s dead wife in Stanislaw Lem’s best known work, Solaris.

However, I’m unknown and unpublished, Kazuo Ishiguro is internationally famous, so I’m going to have to change the title of the eighth Lights in the sky novel. This is fine as Klara was only a placeholder until something better came along. So, I’ve decided that the novel will now be called Finding your place. Needless to say, this title is also currently provisional. What I won’t change is the name of my character.

The chances of this coincidence ever coming to Mr Ishiguro’s attention are remote, but if they do, I’m quite ready to defend myself against any charges of plagiarism. I would point out that I have been writing about self-aware vaguely-humanoid robots in the Lights in the sky series for roughly eight years now (I submitted the short story that kicked off the series to Analog SF magazine in April 2013, in fact).

It would also be a source of amusement to me that anyone would ever compare us as novelists, as we couldn’t be more different. I have read one of Ishiguro’s novels (The Remains of the Day, which I enjoyed), I started Never let me go but got bored halfway through. Mr Ishiguro comes across to me as a miniaturist, with the action of his books seeming to take place mainly in airless rooms, while mine range through time and space. We both may have postmodern elements in our work, but make use of vastly-different source materials for very different purposes.

Nevertheless, I have the man to thank for finally forcing me to make a decision…

The Author February 2021

A different kind of story

By C Stevens | 15th February 2021 | Comments 0 Comment

Recent entries have rather strayed from the original intention of this blog, which was to serve as a commentary on the various novels within the Lights in the sky series and a journal about the process of writing them.

Instead, I’ve tended increasingly to comment on recent political events and social and cultural trends. While this is worth doing in itself, and my need to do so a function of the desperate straits we find ourselves in, I have decided to focus on the novel I’m actually writing for this month’s entry.

Klara (still a working title until something more elegant and descriptive suggests itself), is the eighth entry in the series. There was no grand design behind its writing, I was merely telling the story of a character who has been important to the stories of other characters, but who I felt deserved a book to herself. As I said previously, there was no predetermined plot when I started the book. I don’t do this kind of tight plotting, regarding it as a strait jacket which crushes invention. Instead, I have some kind of end point which I need my character to eventually reach, but what happens in between is essentially improvised.

This approach to writing suits picaresques, a form I’ve used at least once before in this octology, but in the process of creating another of these, I have found myself writing a different kind of novel. The other function of Klara is to tell the story of the Camposetta movement from an alternative perspective. Hitherto, the Camposettas have been the villains of the piece, a point of view that naturally reflects the prejudices of the Alpha Mission and the characters associated with it. The character of Ester Almeida functions as villainess-in-chief in this world view.

However it struck me that the Camposettas would not regard themselves as villainous, and secondly, the ending of The Leftover Girl clearly signals that a rapprochement has been reached between former enemies, who have both taken refuge in as Comunidades Livres in the far west of the country.

So I find myself writing a novel about a revolutionary movement waging a guerilla war against (to them) an oppressive government. I looked to previous writing to act as source material for this new kind of novel, starting with my own bookshelves. My eyes fell immediately upon George Orwell’s famous memoir of his involvement on the Republican side in the Spanish Civil War, Homage to Catalonia. Another influence which can discerned, if you know where to look, is provided by Evelyn Waugh’s Sword of Honour trilogy which (in its later volumes) is set in the Partisan struggle against Nazi Occupation in the old Yugoslavia during World War Two. It also occurs to me that the passage telling the story of the gunboat on Laguna Caceres and its sinking by the Camposettas owes something to my reading of historical accounts of the First World War Battle of Lake Tanganyika, later dramatised by CS Forester in his novel The African Queen.

This milieu has given me the opportunity to try all sorts of (to me) new things in the context of a novel and the adventure continues.

The Author February 2021

Art overtaken by events

By C. E. Stevens | 5th November 2020 | Comments 0 Comment

Apologies for not blogging at all during the month of October, hopefully this entry will make up for that.
I’m imagining a conversation with the taciturn proprietor or sales assistant at the nearby corner shop (I can never work out which he is), not that we have conversations, as such. He’s asking me what I think of lockdown/life nowadays/the US Election (delete as appropriate), and I say that I don’t think things will ever go back to what we regarded as normal before the pandemic. I go on to offer the following opinion,
“…in a funny way, it’s actually a privilege to be living in such an epoch-making period in human history, but you’ve always got to bear in mind that the Chinese had an old (and possibly apocryphal!) curse, ‘…may you live in interesting times!’”
The shop assistant or proprietor doesn’t react to this, but outside the four walls of his rather down-at-heel emporium those ‘interesting times’ grind on relentlessly…
I’ve recently been re-reading In other Worlds by the redoubtable Margaret Atwood and I was struck by how prescient her views on the future direction of civilisation were. Taken from the point of view of 2011, Ms Atwood seems to have predicted 2020 with a scary degree of accuracy.
In my fictional universe, we are coming to the end of the seventh novel in the Lights in the sky series. I’m actually writing the last chapter (chapter twenty four in this particular book!), but as with all last chapters there is a lot to do, character arcs to complete, loose ends to tie up etc etc, so it’s taking a time to finish.
There are other reasons for this dilatoriness; it’s always horrible to let go of a particular story, and I know that before the end of …when you wish upon a star, I will need to do beastly things to characters I’ve grown to love. But that’s the nature of fiction writing.
And it’s not the end of the series; volume eight is already under way, and there will be at least one more short story after that…
I recently came across an x and y axis representation of literary genres, whereby the x axis moves between naturalism at the top and expressionism below, and the y axis between the mimetic on the left, over to the fantastic. This results in four classification quadrants, labelled as follows: top left Realist, top right Speculative, bottom left Stylized, bottom right Fabulist.
The compiler had helpfully produced two versions of the diagram, locating various literary subgenres in each quadrant in the first, and various authors in the second, and I amused myself by locating my own writing within this design, based on my influences and my artistic and ideological leanings. Following these, I would place myself close to the intersection of the x and y axes, within the Fabulist quadrant; this quadrant also contains magical realism, fairy tales and postmodernism, and even a cursory reading of the novels within Lights in the sky demonstrates the debt I owe to all of these. My attachment to the gothic takes me close to the x axis, and the near future, SF and high fantasy elements ensure my work’s proximity to the y axis and the Speculative quadrant.
All of which goes to demonstrate that I steer well clear of Realism as defined by nineteenth century writers and critics. This was always going to be the case given my attachment to Romanticism and my use of speculative and fantastic elements, but does not mean my writing lacks realism.
In recent years, the cultural analysis inherent in nineteenth century notions of ‘realism’ has been rather overtaken by events, as what was previously seen as ‘speculative’, ‘fantastic’, and ‘belonging to the realm of science fiction’ has remorselessly forced its way into our lives and become the mainstream.
So, welcome to your own personal disaster movie/gothic fantasy/near future SF miniseries (delete as appropriate) and despite what the man in the corner shop may think, the times are definitely ‘interesting’ and we have no choice but to live through them.
The Author November 2020

New novel or displacement activity?

By C. E. Stevens | 10th September 2019 | Comments 0 Comment

As I intimated in my last blog, Lights in the sky is not over, as I’ve now started the seventh novel, with the title I trailed last time, …when you wish upon a star, which was just too good to pass up really!
The downside being I’m again putting off trying to market my growing ouvre to agents and publishers, in favour of doing what I really want to do, which is to write more fiction and spend more time in the comforting fictional world I’ve created, as opposed to an increasingly scary real world. There’s also an element of selfishness in this. While I remain obscure and largely unread, the world of Lights in the sky remains mine, and mine alone. I have no agent to make suggestions, no commissioning editor to suggest revisions, no readership to make demands. It gratified me, when reading the obituary of the great Toni Morrison, to learn that she’d kept the manuscript of her first novel, The Bluest Eye, for years before eventually submitting it, even though she worked in publishing. She subsequently explained that she’d wanted to keep the novel private, recognising that once it went out into the world it would no longer be entirely hers. And I can understand that; a fictional world is a precious and intensely personal thing, and being published (and acquiring a readership) entails letting go of part of yourself.
Anyway, back to the work in hand…
As usual, writing a new installment in the series entails a lot of research in order to develop new characters with convincing backstories, and develop tangible locations where the action of the novel can take place, what in cinema is referred to as mise en scene. Some of this research is via my usual sources (step forward and take a bow, Wikipedia, and Google Maps), but a lot of it consists of rereading and research within the existing books of the series. I find that although Marta da Guia is an established character who appears (at various points in her life) in at least three of the novels, there’s an awful lot that we don’t know about her. This is of course the reason for the book, she’s pivotal to Lights in the sky, without her neither of the other two Martas (the main characters in our series) would exist at all. But she has hitherto remained on the periphery, a supporting character, never the main event, bar the twelfth chapter of the first novel.
All this will now change…
I have also decided to incorporate the stories of the other two characters I referenced last month into this novel, rather than condemning them to short story purdah. It makes sense really: Ester Almeida will become a pivotal figure within the Camposetta movement that will eventually destroy the Alpha Mission and Miss da Guia’s world. She will do this via her position as the leader of the Camposetta’s political wing, Partido dos trabalhadores do campo. Clara will not be centre stage, in fact she will eventually go into hiding, but her purpose will be to dramatise how the developing crisis destabilises the lives of ordinary people, as the certainties that have underpinned their existence are steadily eroded.
Finally, I have decided to make Miss da Guia’s biological parents (who never actually meet their child, or each other) significant characters in their own right, more so than Marta’s Alpha Mission-appointed foster parents, and the various educationalists and functionaries that will surround her. By remaining detached, I hope they will be able to take on the role of a Greek chorus, commenting on the action as it proceeds with the grinding inevitability of all history.
So that’s the plan, but there’s so much more to be done, and so much more to come…
As a sidebar to the above, I’ve found a number of really good YouTube channels in the last couple of days, writing specifically about SF movies, including 2001: A Space Odyssey, Interstellar, and my personal favourite, the peerless Arrival.
Their various analyses (especially those on the nature of language, presented in two programmes on Arrival) got me thinking, and I came up with the following notions, which may not be original, but aren’t based on anything I’ve ever read.
Around five and a half thousand years ago we went through a pivotal moment in the development of human society, specifically the jump from a purely oral culture to a written one. This gradually percolated downwards from a learned elite to eventually encompass the bulk of humanity, and in the process profoundly altered the way people think, effectively rewiring our brains.
And now I think this is happening again, with a jump from a written culture to one mediated by Artificial Intelligence. This has already significantly altered the way many of us behave, and the process of rewiring human consciousness appears to be happening all over again. But this time with frightening speed, and with profound and unknowable consequences for us all.
’til next time
The Author September 2019

Housekeeping

By C. E. Stevens | 29th August 2019 | Comments 0 Comment

Housekeeping
Lights in the sky is many things: it’s a vast sprawling meta-novel of ideas and scientific, philosophical, societal, economic and theological speculations; its a series of picaresques; it’s a postmodernist tribute to my sources and influences; it’s a romance, an adventure story, a coming of age novel; it’s a mystery story with the author as detective; it’s all these things and more…
It’s also now finished…
Perhaps I should qualify this; the main narrative is complete, on both on Earth and on Alpha 5, we now know what happens to all of the protagonists, and have a fair idea of what comes next. We have followed our characters (for the most part) from birth to death, and the central enigma behind the world of the series has been laid bare.
However there are a number of other stories within this vast concept (six novels, 2314 pages, and nearly seven hundred thousand words) referenced or alluded to in passing, that I feel deserve to be told, either in short story form, or in additional novels. I’ve already started this process and written a number of short stories, which I intend to collect together at some point, perhaps under the title Tales from the Collapse.
But one or two of these stories would appear to merit a longer treatment. An obvious candidate is the story of the original Marta, Miss da Guia, from her strange conception as part of the breeding programme undertaken by the Alpha Mission, through her unusual childhood in Sao Paulo, her short-lived media stardom, and her brutal and untimely death…
I’ve just remembered that I have title for this putative novel, ‘When You Wish upon a Star’, which plays with various layers of meaning; The Journey to the Stars undertaken by the Alpha Mission carries the hopes of millions marooned on an apparently-dying world, Miss da Guia is a media star worshipped by those millions, and she is following her own star…
Given that the title I have arrived at neatly pitches the novel, I think it’s now highly likely that I will write it.
The other candidate a further volume is the fate of Clara and all the other automatons unlucky enough to have remained on Earth after the departure of the Probe in 2048. The leftover girl hints at the likely fate of such entities towards the end of the novel; Clara has been rejected by her creator Dr Helen Choi, who now sees the robot as the product of her pursuit of false scientific gods, of literally being in error, in Christian terms. By definition Clara is thus demonic, and shares the fate of the Creature rejected by his creator, Victor Frankenstein, in Mary Shelley’s famous novel.
We have also been given a glimpse of the forces of reaction ranged against the Alpha Mission and all its works in the person of the ‘Mayor of Ibara City’, the formidable Ester Almeida, and we know things aren’t going to end well.
I often think that the dichotomy within the series between ‘the scientific vision’ as exemplified by the Alpha Mission, and ‘the spiritual vision’ personified by the Camposettas and their adherents (including eventually Dr Choi), is essentially a dramatisation of a battle that I’ve fought within myself my whole life. A struggle between a belief in science (and its delinquent offspring, technology), and a countervailing attachment to the natural world, primitive socialism, and a non-specific form of spirituality, most akin to Buddhism.
Seen in these terms, Lights in the sky becomes an actualization of this inner debate…
The Author August 2019

Caught in the slipstream?

By C. E. Stevens | 5th July 2019 | Comments 0 Comment

I Have just come across a new literary genre, ‘slipstream’, of which I’d previously been unaware. I was guided to it by the work of Anna Kavan, a literary hero of mine, when I paid a tribute to the style and language of her most famous novel, Ice, by pastiching it at the beginning of chapter twenty of Maya. I’d previously always regarded Anna Kavan as a science fiction writer (albeit a very strange one), but when I looked up her Wikipedia article, I found out that apparently she’s now classified as part of the Slipstream movement, the term being coined by cyberpunk author Bruce Sterling in 1989.
This has led me to research the genre via Wikipedia in order to see if some of what I write falls within this classification…
If we look at the characteristics ascribed to slipstream genre fiction and compare it that which characterises my fiction we should be able to answer that question.
Firstly a health warning; Lights in the sky, as I’ve argued a number of times in this blog, shifts between genres in the course of each book (sometimes in the course of an individual chapter), which in itself is postmodernist.
Slipstream fiction is often seen as the ‘literature of strangeness’ and will employ epistemological and ontological questioning of the nature of reality. Epistemology interrogates the distinction between objective and subjective viewpoints; my fiction constantly (from chapter twelve of A Children’s Crusade onwards) contrasts these two modes. Ontology is essentially about the nature of being, which has become the principal concern of Lights in the sky.
James Patrick Kelly and John Kessel, editors of Feeling Very Strange: The Slipstream Anthology argue slipstream makes use of cognitive dissonance (i.e. simultaneously holding two or more contradictory beliefs, values, or attitudes). I’m not sure I really do that in my fiction, if we disregard the truism that such contradictory thinking is a part of the human condition.
Kelly and Kessel go on to argue that slipstream disrupts the realist narrative, avoids the traditional fantasy tropes, and is essentially postmodernist in form.
I’d say probably one out of three on this count…
I embrace traditional fantasy tropes rather than avoiding them, what I tend to do is make creative use of the archetypes contained within them (mainly derived from folk tales and mythology), and refer to them to add depth to my prose.
I also think that I strive to make those parts of the narrative that sit in the real world realistic, although this is not (I think) literary realism in the nineteenth century sense. I’m not constantly disrupting this narrative, rather there are two narrative spaces within all of my recent novels, two narrative streams that run on parallel; one is the physical world, the other a liminal space which intrudes into the ‘real world’ in the form of dreams and visions, but sometimes supplants the everyday world. Tata’s stay amongst the Tupi people when she believes she exists outside of time, is an example of this.
What I do acknowledge are the various postmodernist elements to my writing…
I won’t go through all of the postmodernist aspects present in my ouvre as I’ve discussed these at length in previous blogs, but for the purposes of this blog I will focus on three of them.
I make use of an unreliable narrator on occasion (Nancy, in case you hadn’t noticed), my text embodies the use of paradox (a recent example being Joel’s contention at the start of chapter twenty, ‘…the paradox inherent in technology…is that it makes the world available to us (in an unprecedented way!) while simultaneously destroying it…’, and I frequently employ a fractured narrative…
So what’s my conclusion?
I don’t think that what I write is slipstream, I merely make use of some of the techniques that form the basis of this genre. But I also make use of techniques and narrative forms from multiple genres. If I were to characterise my fiction I would say it is mainstream science fiction with a postmodern sensibility…
’Til next time
The Author – July 2019

How will it all end?

By C. E. Stevens | 28th June 2019 | Comments 0 Comment

How will it all end?
As usual I’m leaving it late to blog this month, possibly lulled into a false sense of security by managing to blog twice last month…
However we are getting to the crucial stage in the Lights in the sky series; the point when it all needs to pay off and the various hares I’ve set running needed to be hunted down…
The problem I face is that it’s all so complex…
There has been an ending to this series already (in the climax of the original trilogy, The Lost Colony), and I have to remain faithful to this but I can’t duplicate it. There needs to be a development of the narrative and development of the concept.
It is tempting to carry on regardless, just writing what comes into your head, and I often employ this approach, but this means that you miss out things (sometimes the bleedin’ obvious!), and so editing becomes important, add texture to the narrative, to correct mistakes and anachronisms, and to remain true to the overall concept.
And this necessitates lots of research…
So I’ve actually re-read the whole sextet this year, and because I can never just read the text, this had resulted in a complete re-edit of all six novels. I’m aided in this by a new feature helpfully introduced by Google, an enhanced spelling and grammar check (which I’m presuming is rather like Grammarly, but is free). This has proved invaluable and has pointed out lots of errors that my manual editing had managed to miss.
When you read bumpf from Agents and online luminaries offering advice (such as the ubiquitous Neil Gaiman), they always talk about the first and second edit (and presumably the third and the fourth…).
Well, I don’t work like that…
I don’t sit down one day and say to myself, ‘…today, I’m going to do the second edit of this or that novel’, my editing is constant. Every time I write a new section of whichever novel I’m working on, I review and edit the preceding chapters. Every time I re-read previous novels (and do this a lot!), I end up editing them.
I’ve nearly finished re-editing The leftover girl, and I rediscovered various speculations on the ethics of the Alpha Mission and the whole notion of maya, from the POV of Helen Choi, the architect of Mission AI, who at the end of her life now regrets the decisions she has made in her life, in the pursuit and what she now regards as false scientific gods, and now regards herself as being in error. In fact, she sees the whole notion of scientific progress (which underlies Western philosophy) as being ‘in error’ in religious terms (Helen is a Catholic), and an example of maya in philosophical terms, a concept she has imbibed from her late husband, Alex, who was a Buddhist in life.
This puts Helen in the same camp as Tata, albeit that they have reached this conclusion from completely different starting points (and by radically different routes).
This will inform the crucial last three chapters of the series, and currently the stakes are very high (getting higher), as I negotiate the last few miles in this epic adventure…
We’ll see how it all turns out…
The Author June 2019

Island: analogy and its uses

By C. E. Stevens | 28th March 2019 | Comments 0 Comment

Island: analogy and its uses
I came up with a neat and (I think) apposite analogy recently while writing chapter fifteen of Maya, imagining the Edgbaston campus of the University of Birmingham (a future version features as a setting) as an island in a sea of ordinary concerns.
I thought further and applied the analogy (on a larger scale) to an England, ‘…separated geographically, politically and culturally from its European neighbours and the wider world,’ post-Brexit. It then occurred to me that the same analogy applied to my writing (and this blog), given that I am largely talking to myself here.
The analogy continues to gather force and gobble up more territory as I’m currently suffering from a painful and debilitating ailment which makes the ordinary tasks of daily life challenging, makes it harder for me to leave the house, and has the effect of isolating me from the rest of the world (on my own island).
If this is beginning to sound like an extract from one of Kafka’s famous Blue Notebooks (recently brought back to my attention by the music of Hans Richter), then this is apt as I claim him as an influence.
On that cheery note
The Author March 2019

After the Flood

By C. E. Stevens | 21st December 2018 | Comments 0 Comment

Blog entry supplemental twenty two: After the Flood
At last, it’s here!
After promising you the first chapter of my sixth novel, I’m finally in a position to deliver. After the Flood is (as regular readers will be aware) also the fifth novel in the Lights in the sky sextet.
The opening is very much in the tradition of ‘it was a dark and stormy night’, although we a very quickly plunged into the world of 2043. I wrote the four lines of verse that provide an epigraph for the chapter, and the novel is book-ended by a much longer poem which closes the narrative. The story is about the Great Flood of London of 2043, and was originally called ‘The Great Flood’, but the title changed (as they often do) to be replaced by the rather less matter of fact and rather more evocative present title, with its Biblical connotations (and indirect reference to Bob Dylan).
After the Flood is also more appropriate because almost the whole of the novel is about what happens next. We follow a group of people, most of whom we meet in this opening chapter, who survive the Deluge, and we see how they cope and how they attempt to repair or in most cases remake their lives in the chaos and the loss that follows the inundation of London.
In chapter one we see the arrival of the Great Wave which devastates London from the point of view of our diverse group of protagonists. All of whom survive (in one case miraculously), while others around them perish. These people are ordinary and flawed; they are not necessarily the right people (i.e. those that deserve to live), and all suffer from what you might term ‘survivor’s guilt’ at various times and to various degrees.
All are changed by their experiences (though some more than others), and most become better people.
Chapter one is necessarily episodic, as I try to portray the implacability and the sheer inevitability of the cataclysm as it unfolds (at times almost in slow motion). Thus we have a fractured narrative; unsurprising as the events are told from a variety of perspectives, but also because I want to put over how such an event would be experienced by those caught up in it, and convey the overwhelming feelings of shock and dislocation they would feel.
A friend who is reading the novel described it as ‘your disaster movie’, and (like all Lights in the sky novels), it is written with adaptation in mind. Dialogue is important, but it is balanced by the interior monologue of the main characters, the pace (initially at least) is frenetic, and I have tried to convey visually the impact of the Event on the ancient city of London.
And on re-reading this chapter I am convinced more than ever that I have succeeded in my aims. See if you agree…
The Author December 2018

Blog entry supplemental seven: …if we had but world enough and time

By C Stevens | 24th April 2017 | Comments 0 Comment

One of the principal attractions (to me) of writing science fiction is that you get to create your own world. This even has a technical term (it’s called world building!), and formed part of the syllabus of the one day course is writing SF that I did three years ago.
Of course, any form of creative writing involves a bit of this, but with mainstream fiction you’ve got much more to go on! SF and Fantasy require much more creativity in this regard as you’re often starting from scratch. This has its own perils; fantasy and sword and sorcery novels in particular tend to suffer from a plethora of daft (sometimes faintly ludicrous) names for things, people, beasts, countries, worlds etc etc.
To avoid this I’ve tried to ground my narrative with a greater sense of realism by writing the near (and hopefully horribly plausible) future. It’s really an alternative history (currently a popular genre, with the success of Amazon Studio’s television adaptation of Philip K Dick’s novel The Man in the High Castle), but this is future history rather an alternative past!
As I’ve said, this notion is extremely seductive as you get to play God, but also extremely satisfying and comforting as you create a world that you, the author, can escape to. And Lord knows we need that at the moment!
Mainstream critics (and even some authors) can be extremely disparaging about speculative fiction of all kinds; but this is essentially grounded in ignorance and a rather sniffy attitude towards genre fiction in general!
Any decent SF (or Fantasy) novel will contain all the characterisation, narrative experimentation, and philosophical speculation of a comparable mainstream novel, but in addition will require the creation of a convincing world, right down to the last detail! This is very complex and challenging and some of our (so-called) critics should give it a try!
One of the most challenging aspects is the so-called timeline (i.e. keeping all your ducks in a row temporally!), and the foregoing diatribe serves to introduce a new feature coming soon to the Lights in the Sky site; the Alpha Mission timeline, which will soon be added by my good friend Rob Tyler.
CE Stevens April 2017

Categories

Recent Posts

Category: narrative styles