On May 1, 1851, the Great Exhibition opened in the Crystal Palace in London. It was spectacle of such awesome sight and splendour that no one visiting it would have ever seen anything like it before. It was the model that the World Fairs of the future would be based upon. It was entirely an idea dreamt up by Queen Victoria’s husband, Prince Albert. Europe and Britain in 1851 was at peace. The terrible Napoleonic wars were a distant memory and the horrors of the Crimea was two years into the future.  Britain was entering the height of its Imperial age – a might driven by the engines of industry. It was this might and this industry that Albert planned to show the world.

The commission in charge of the exhibition held an international competition to design a building for the exhibition. the winning bid was that of Joseph Paxton. He designed a huge greenhouse to house the displays. Construction work began on 1 August 1850 and involved more than 2,000 men. The building work involved thousands of sheets of glass. 1,000 iron columns, 2,224 trellis girders, 4,000 tons of iron, 30 miles of guttering and 202 miles of sash bar.

On May 1st 1851 exactly on schedule the exhibition opened to a London eager and keen to see the wonders within.  The Queen herself opened the exhibition and visited on several occasions. At first the price was £3 for gentlemen and £2 for ladies. Their coaches were valet parked whilst they looked around. On the 24^th May the price  was drooped to just the a shilling a head and the population responded with unbounded enthusiasm.   The travel agent Thomas Cook arranged special excursion trains.  They came in their many thousands from all over the United kingdom and the world.

When I hear people today saying that they don’t plan to visit the London Olympics because “London is a long way a way” I treat that remark with the contempt it deserves.  In 1851 people travelled hundreds of miles in slow coaches and trains.  One old lady even walked, all the way from Penzance to visit it!

When they arrived outside they were treated to a true wonder of the world.

As they emerged from between the buildings, Tom saw a sight that took his breath away. Rising above the mature oaks and beech trees that populated Hyde Park was a colossal structure. Made of glass and steel, which caught and reflected the summer sun as it climbed the southern skies at their backs, Tom got the impression of a gigantic greenhouse. Indeed, in terms of style if not size, the building did look a little like the one his grandfather owned on an allotment a few streets from Tom’s house. He almost expected to see the old man pottering around with pruning shears. This, though, was not a greenhouse. This was a vast exhibition hall hundreds of metres long and so tall that Tom could see that its roof actually arched above one of the Park’s ancient oak trees. No wonder they called it the Crystal Palace, he thought.

From Yesterday’s Treasures (Young Adult Time Travel Novel)

But the building was only a taster for the great treasures they would see within.

The interior rose like a great cathedral above them, but whilst a medieval cathedral had arches and pillars of ancient stone, this edifice was made of vast steel girders and huge sheets of glass. A central nave ran the length of the building. Down each side were great alcoves above which a balcony projected and from which hung dozens of flags from all over the world: France, Britain, America – and many more that Tom could not recognise. As they walked around they found the place was divided into courts each with a different theme. The Indian Court was gaudily adorned with jewels, exotic fabrics and clothing, which Tom had seen ladies wearing in the Asian supermarkets in his own city. The China Court was full of ceramics, vases, oriental screens, and illuminated lanterns; whilst the Turkish Court was populated by hookahs, curved scimitars and a camel saddle. Not far away was a huge Celtic Cross. These items were surrounded and dwarfed by great machines which puffed and groaned as their pistons pumped up and down and hammers rose and fell.

“This is the height of the Industrial Revolution, Tommy boy,” Septimus said as they paused by one vast machine that was punching holes in steel sheets. “The power of this industry is giving all these nations an empire. But it is Britain that is becoming the super power of the Victorian age and whether you think that is right or wrong, the Brits of this day are not afraid to brag about it. To be honest it’s quite exciting, isn’t it?”

Albert had sent out invitations to the world to send their greatest and most splendid innovations.  The response was awesome. There were some 100,000 objects, displayed along more than ten miles, by over 15,000 contributors.Half of the exhibits were from Britain and from the Empire. The biggest items of all was Stevenson’s massive hydraulic press that had lifted the metal tubes of the bridge at Bangor. There were examples of every kind of steam engine, including the giant railway locomotives. As the Queen put it in her Diary, ‘every conceivable invention’ could be seen

The American display headed by a massive eagle, wings outstretched, holding a drapery of the Stars and Stripes featured prominently Colt’s repeating fire-arms. The Russian exhibits were superlative and included huge vases twice the height of a man, furs, sledges and Cossack armour. The Swiss sent gold watches, the French sumptuous tapestries, Sevres porcelain and silks from Lyons, enamels from Limoges and furniture.

The single attraction that the crowds most eagerly queued to see was the famous Koh-i-Noor diamond. It was supposed to be of inestimable value, but most people found it dull and disappointing (It was not until it had been skillfully cut that its beauty emerged. It is now part of the Crown Jewels.)

Before the Exhibition had opened it was predicted it would make a loss. In fact when it closed, on 11^th October, over six million people had gone through the turnstiles. It made a profit of £186,000, most of which was used to create the South Kensington museums that are still one of London’s great attractions.

The excepts are from my book Yesterday’s Treasures the second book in the Hourglass Institute series.

Experiences of organising visits to schools to do author talks.

by Richard Denning

For an author the hardest part of the process of writing and publishing books is promotion and marketing. Getting your book read by people involves getting it IN FRONT of people. The hard grind of achieving that falls to the author not the publisher (and in many cases they are one and the same in any event).

One opportunity worth exploring is giving talks at schools. All schools are keen to bring in a variety of visitors to talk about all subjects and topics and therefore an author should think hard about whether they or their books could be of interest to the school.

1)Working out what you could talk about

Whether your book is fiction or non fiction ask yourself:

• Is the book aimed at or appropriate for Primary or Secondary age children?
• Is the subject matter one that fits with the schools curriculum? Here in the UK there is a National Curriculum that it is worth checking over to see what is actually taught at schools. Most other countries will have something similar.
• Are you an expert on your subject matter. The answer may well be yes even if you don’t think it. If you have researched a particular historical period, an area of science or a specific location the chances are that you know a lot about that – a lot more than most others anyway.
• Are there other aspects of the world of writing planning a book that could be used in a talk?
• Is there something about publishing that you can talk about. Actually getting a book published -whether mainstream or self published or Print on Demand involves many steps that has given you an experience that most people do not understand and that could be valuable.

Sit down and write out the sorts of topics that you could cover. So in my case I write Historical Fiction and also Young Adult Science fiction involving time travel to different periods. This means there are specific historical periods I know a lot about. I have also explored the physics of Time Travel as well as seen an unhealthy number of films and read too many books about it. I have developed my own method of researching, plotting and writing that I can discuss. I am self published so I have experiences of that process and because like all authors I have approached mainstream agents and publishers I know something of the stages of making submissions.

I then summarised several of these areas into a brief description:

Time Travel sound like fun until you try it The fascination of time travel and why it could be more dangerous than you think! A rattle through Time Travel in book and movie, the physics of Time Travel and its dangers. Includes readings from Tomorrow’s Guardian. Ideal for Years 6 to 8.

The Great Fire of London 1666 By Permission of Heaven! A talk about The Great Fire of London – its causes, extent and the fallout from it. Includes readings from Tomorrow’s Guardian and/ or The Last Seal and use of video, maps and my Board Game to illustrate. Can be pitched at Primary school or adapted for secondary schools.

Introduction to writing Historical Fiction Making the past believable. Looking at writing historical novels. Inspiration for ideas, researching the subject, plots and people, making it vibrant and alive. Where to go next. This is intended for Year 6 Primary school or Secondary schools.

The ins and outs of getting published – by a self published author “I would be grateful if you would consider my novel.” So you have written a book – where to go next. Researching the market, spotting the next big thing. Writing a proposal. Agents, publishers, Print on Demand, Small press and self publishing. This is intended for secondary schools and possibly Year 6 primary schools.

The Zulu war of 1879 –Great Courage and great fools! About the invasion of Zulu land in 1879 – the mistakes and the amazing heroism on both sides.

From those outlines I then planned out each talk which included estimates of timing of each bit. No plan will survive intact on contact with school children but you need A PLAN and then the ability to adapt it. I aimed for talks that would last about 60 to 90 minutes but could be shortened if needed. See more later.

2)Approaching Schools

The next thing I did was to set up a page about the visits on my website so that the schools could see what was on offer. On this website I lay out my expectations. So I specify the talks that I will do. I say something about age groups and duration. I give some idea about the sorts of activities that would go on. Then I say what I would expect in return. Now this is a delicate matter. At my stage I am very keen to get more readers and so I will go to some lengths to facilitate a visit. All I ask for is that the school buy 1 copy of each of my 4 titles at £6 each – which is not exactly a vast outlay. In the case of primary schools only2 of my titles are really appropriate so I only ask that they obtain those 2. Schools do have a budget for this sort of thing and that kind of outlay is really within their scope. You have to consider whether to charge travel costs. I say on my website that I will charge 25p a mile but will actually wave this if the school is local.

I don’t charge any form of appearance fee. My view is that I want to get my books in front of as many people as possible so why put obstacles in the way. Furthermore I am an unknown author beyond a small readership so who would pay me?

You can contact schools:

• In person by going in. This is difficult as most schools are not keen on drop in visits but it would be a way of getting material to them. It is easier if you have contacts in the school.
• By mail – but a physical mail shot to lots of schools will get expensive.
• Email. School do list contact email addresses and there are sites that list schools in each area and even ones that have lists of contact emails BUT these can be out of date quickly.
• By word of mouth. Of you get a good visit, ask the school to tell other schools.

When you have contact with a school I suggest you spell out in detail:

• The exact time and date of the visit
• The age group and group sizes you will be talking to
• What environment will you be talking in – the school hall, library or class room etc.
• Who is the supervising person. You should never be left alone with children.
• The time length of the sessions
• The subject matter you are being asked to talk about
• An agreement on terms of any payment, expenses , book purchases etc
• Can you park the car, will they feed you!

3) The Talk

Attention spans are getting shorter we are told. Therefore it is important to grab the audience’s attention and keep them engaged. As I have progressed through the talks I have done so far I have added in MORE interaction and more times when the children can get up, come forward and do something.

I take a lot of props along – such as old uniforms, weapons, armour posters from movies and books. The children should be encouraged to pick them up, talk about them and try clothing on.

I incorporate activities. FOR EG I hand out lots of post cards of histocal periods and ask them to choose one to wrire about. When exploring Time Travel I get them to play out some paradoxes and experiments and I am always on the look out for more to add in.

I build in video clips from movies and cartoons. I use power point to illustrate talks as well.

The key is to break it up. Have lots of different things going on. Get the children out to take part and involve them in discussion. Challenge them “Do you think Time Travel is possible?” “No — why not?”

4)The Promotional bit

I take along book marks and postcards and posters and liberally hand these out. I make sure that I do a reading from a book at least once in a talk – even if a brief one. I mention my website and blog and suggest if they want to find out more they go there. I DON’T try and sell the books to the children BUT I of course will do so if they ask. You wont sell many books directly at school most likely BUT you hope that some will be picked up afterwards and if the school can buy a couple then that is a result already.

I take a camera and ask one of the children to take some photos. I ask permission IN ADVANCE about this and also ask the school to check permissions for each child’s image to be taken (most schools will get parents to sign these at the start of the year).

5)Afterwards

I email the school within a day or two, thank them for having me, ask for feedback and permission to use images and ideally a quote I can use on the website. I offer to go back if they want another visit.

You can see my visits page on my site here:

http://www.richarddenning.co.uk/visits.html

For more about my time travel series go here:
http://www.richarddenning.co.uk/tomguard.html

For more about my historical fiction series go here:
http://www.richarddenning.co.uk/theambertreasure.html

For more about the Great Fire Historical Fantasy go here:
http://www.richarddenning.co.uk/thelastseal.html

 

 

 

 

Today is the anniversary of the Hindenburg disaster in 1937. This event appears in Yesterdays Treasures. Here is the excerpt.

Chapter ten – Hindenburg

 

 

Tom stretched out both his arms. Edward and Charlie each placed a hand on one and Mary and Septimus on the other. In his mind Tom brought up the Map. He scrolled across it to find the eastern seaboard of the United States. Once there he located the naval base at Lakehurst. He focused upon it and Walked in that direction. As he moved, he brought into his mind an image of the Clock – his brass alarm clock that had once belonged to his father. He spun the timepiece’s hands backwards, moving them faster and faster until he knew he had reached the target date and as he did, he Walked them all back through time to May 6th, 1937, a few minutes before seven p.m. local time.

They materialised in the gap between a warehouse and some packing cases. Septimus popped up to take a look over the top of one and glanced about then turned and beckoned for Tom to join him. Tom peered carefully round a box labelled ‘J.P. Sutton – Machine Tools’. Beyond the cases, and only a few feet in front of them, was a wire fence about twelve feet high and through it he spotted two enormous hangers running off to their right. Ahead and to the left was a large open space with marked out runways and a windsock fluttering in the breeze. On the far side of the landing field, more huge hangars loomed. To their left and about two hundred yards away, in the middle of the large open landing field, was a tall structure made of steel girders. Much like the Eifel Tower, but actually shaped a bit like a rocket, it rose to a point high above them.

“I have been here before,” the Welshman whispered. A few years prior to today, in fact; I was … ahem, borrowing some secret plans. Anyway, according to memory, those hangers house the airships when they are not in flight,” Septimus pointed at the vast buildings. “The Americans had several naval airships based here I believe, as well as it being the landing field for the Hindenburg. Now, look over there everyone,” he gestured.

They all stared at the huge tower.

“That’s the airship mooring mast. When the Hindenburg arrives, it will come in and descend so that it is level with the top of the tower. It will then dock with it and be winched down to ground level. That at least is the plan. Of course, that never actually happens, because, whilst the ship is approaching the tower the disaster occurs and she burns and crashes.”

“Good Lord, there she is!” Charlie exclaimed.

They turned to see the airship approaching from behind them: an impossibly large cigar-shaped balloon hundreds of feet above them, but still vast, casting a giant shadow over the airfield. She was a metallic blue colour all over, with the exception of the glass windows in the control car at the front and the promenade windows of the passenger deck at the thing’s belly. Prominently displayed were red and black swastika flags painted onto the fish like fins projecting out of her rear end. Eerily, her approach was almost silent.

Tom heard a loud sob and turned to see Mary staring up at the Hindenburg, one hand over her mouth and the other clutching at Septimus. “I am frightened, Mr Mason. What demons drive that creature, what magic can make it fly?”

“Mary, don’t get upset. It is a thing; a machine that men make. There is no monster within it – just engines,” Septimus explained, but Tom could see Mary was far from convinced and she kept on staring at the airship as it moved by. Did she see it as yet more evidence of incomprehensible things beyond her time – a time she was perhaps never meant to see? Exchanging worried glances with Edward and Charlie, Tom placed his arm around her waist and gave her a comforting squeeze. He could feel her whole body trembling and knew she was struggling not to weep.

Mary, you don’t have to come.  You can stay here and i’ll pick you up later.

No, Master, she said firmly, letting go of Septimus and dashing a hand across her face, clearly making an effort to regain her composure.Forgive a moment’s weakness. I will be fine now, I swear it.

Relieved to feel that she was no longer shaking Tom gave her an encouraging smile and withdrew his arm.

The Hindenburg was still high up and well above the mooring tower. As it passed over the top it turned to the north and then to the west and now Tom could see that it was descending slowly as it curved around and began to come back towards the east – back towards them and the tower.

Septimus checked his watch, “Right, it’s about fifteen minutes before the disaster. Time to get on board. Tom, take us into the superstructure near the crew compartment’s access door to the aft gangway.

Tom nodded and tried to hide the doubts he was feeling. He was glad he had taken careful notice of the Professor’s plans, but had he paid enough attention to the details? What if he got it wrong? One of them could end up outside the airship or inside one of the gas cells. Then, of course, it was not just a question of recalling the layout correctly. If whatever had afflicted him the previous day happened again they might all end up in the middle of the sea for all he knew. The lives of his friends were in his hands and the enormity of the responsibility made him falter.

“OK Tom? Septimus hissed. “No time to hang about, boyo!”

Shaking his head in an effort to dismiss his gnawing anxieties Tom frowned in concentration. They had only minutes on this job and he had to get it right. In his mind he brought up the Map and then, having made sure he was anchored to the location at Lakehurst, he superimposed the floor plan of the airship, orientating it in his mind so it matched the alignment of the real ship above them. There, just behind the hatch into B-deck, was a corridor. But it was a narrow space, only wide enough for one person, so with a hurried explanation, Tom had his companions form up in single file then positioned himself in the middle of the line. He nodded to the others and they reached out to touch his outstretched arms then, with a final nod, he Walked them away.

They materialised in the corridor running along the keel of the airship, which was formed within a triangle of steel girders. A narrow gangway led in two directions within the triangle, whilst outside the girders there were huge sheets of whitish canvas. Tom realised after a moment that these were the gas cells and that he and his friends were surrounded by thousands of tons of hydrogen: the gas that fuelled the sun. A single spark might turn it all into an inferno. He gulped and looked along the walkway.

From one direction down the corridor the whirl and clunk of machinery could be heard. “Generator room in the heart of the ship: that’s aft of the cabins. Come on, this way,” Septimus muttered and led them in a single file away from the generators. On either side of them they now saw a series of cabin doors. Septimus held his finger to his lips to keep them quiet and hissed two words, “Crew quarters,” before carrying on along the corridor.

Beyond the crew quarters, a large steel door blocked their path: the rear hatch leading into B-deck.

Septimus looked round to check they were all still with him and glancing at Tom he raised a questioning eyebrow and tapped his watch.

“It is now seven-fifteen local time,” Tom said. “Assuming the Professor knows what he is talking about and the stone tablet is also correct, then these pearls we are after will begin to change into the fragment of the Crown in eight minutes. The fire starts in, er … ten and then in two minutes more, the ship is destroyed.”

“Right then. Charlie, Mary and I will go and try to get into the Captain’s safe. Tom, you and Edward go to the passenger cabins and look for the pearls there. If we fail to find them, we meet up here in ten minutes. All clear?”

“As mud!” muttered Charlie.

“Excellent,” replied Septimus. “Right, let’s go!”

Cautiously, Septimus opened the hatch and peered around it. Beyond the doorway, the corridor extended forwards about fifty feet before ending at another hatchway. More doors led off the passageway on either side. Septimus allowed Mary and Charlie to pass by him into the corridor. He went to follow them then suddenly he slapped his forehead, turned around to face Tom and Edward and frowning, pointed up at the ceiling.

“Damn!” he exclaimed. “I just remembered that you can’t get to the stairs from here without going through the Purser’s cabin and the bar. The bar is through the smoking room airlock and will be manned by the barman. You two are going to have to Walk up through the ceiling.”

Tom nodded and imagined the plan of the airship in his mind. Directly above them he could picture the hallway at the top of the stairs from B-deck, which was the entrance to the passenger cabins. “Ten feet straight up,” he instructed his companion. Edward nodded and they both Walked to the landing.

On either side of them, stairs led downwards. Beyond these were doors to the dining room, on one side of the ship, and the passenger lounge on the other. Directly in front of them two corridors ran between the passenger cabins. A moment after they had appeared, a smartly dressed man in a jacket and tie strolled out of one of the corridors examining a camera he was holding. He pushed past with barely a glance and then turned to take a second look at them.

“Guten Abend, wie heissen Sie?”

“Er, Ich heisse Herr Edward Dyson,” Edward said in hesitant German.

“Ah, you are American? Why have I not seen you before?” the stranger asked, switching to English.

“English, actually but we have both been ill, only just come out of our cabin.”

The German gentleman looked doubtful at that answer, but shrugged and walked on towards the lounge. “Well, we are just landing,” he said over his shoulder, “so I would hurry yourselves: you don’t want to miss that do you?”

After he had gone, Tom let out the breath he had been holding and Edward nodded at him. “Phew, I thought he might raise the alarm. Come on, let’s go – we can’t have long now.”

“Just nine minutes to go,” said Tom, turning to peer towards the cabins. “Which corridor?”

Edward shrugged and then rushed across to one of the openings and glanced along it, his gaze taking in the nearest of the doors on one side and then the one opposite it. “We want number 17 don’t we? These are 1 and 14 so not this corridor,” he announced moving to the other entrance. “Here’s 15 to 28. Come on, it’s this way.”

Tom ran after his friend, counting off the cabins as he passed them: “15 … 16 …”

“Ah, 17, this is it,” Edward announced, giving a gentle tap on the door, his ear pressed against the polished wood. “Thank goodness, no one there,” he said after a moment, his hand twisting the doorknob. “Blast! Locked,” he muttered and then stepped back, steadied himself and hurtled into the door like a rugby forward putting his weight behind his right shoulder. With a great crack followed by a splintering sound, the door was knocked back off its hinges.

“You don’t think it might have been easier to Walk? Tom muttered with a wry grin.

Edward shrugged and just smiled. “Maybe … but it wouldn’t have been as much fun.”

Beyond the shattered doorway the cabin was tiny: only six feet long by about five feet wide. On their left they could see a wash basin and a curtain that led to a small closet. Ahead of them was a fold-down table and a stool. Finally, on the right, was a bunk bed complete with a ladder leading to the upper bunk. On the lower bunk Tom spotted a suitcase.

Edward had seen it too and tried the catches. “Locked!” he grunted. “Try checking the closet, hurry we have only eight more minutes,” he added, pulling out a penknife and flicking out a blade.

Tom poked his head through the curtain, but the shelving inside was bare. Frau Denitz had obviously packed her clothes away in the case.

Edward, meanwhile, had pushed the point of the blade behind the lock and twisted. With a snap the catch flew open. He repeated this manoeuvre on the other side then he tipped the case upside down. Shirts and blouses, trousers and skirts fell out of the case and tumbled on to the blanket covering the lower bunk. Two small boxes fell out as well: one bouncing on the bed to land on the floor. Tom bent over to retrieve that one, opening it hopefully, but then grimaced when it turned out to contain only a fountain pen. Edward opened the other to reveal a string of shiny and very beautiful white pearls. Tom grabbed the jewellery and grinned at Edward.

“Eureka! Found it!” Tom said. “Quick, let’s go.”

He turned to exit the cabin and then froze, for there, in the corridor outside, stood a man. He was somewhat older than the young lieutenant – perhaps about the same age as Septimus – clean shaven but with a shock of red hair. He wore army style canvas trousers and a Chelsea football top. There were two striking things about him, other than his hair. Firstly, the football shirt was from the recent 2009 to 2010 football season and secondly, he was holding a pistol.

“I’ll ‘ave that mate!” he said, speaking with a London accent, cocking the revolver and pointing it at Tom.

Chapter eleven – Rolf Lapace

Edward Walked: vanishing from where he stood next to Tom and appearing in the corridor beside the stranger, his fist going back ready to land a punch on the redhead’s face. Edward blinked, gasping as he saw the man was no longer there, but had vanished the instant Edward materialised.

Tom was about to join Edward when he felt a pistol barrel dig into the back of his neck. With a chill he realised the man was now right behind him and that he too was a Walker.

“Nice try, sunshine!” said a voice in Tom’s ear. Reaching over, the redhead seized the string of pearls and with a pop, was gone.

Edward slammed his fist against the wall in frustration, “Damned cheek! Who the devil was that chap?”

“I have no idea, but he’s got the pearls and it’s less than two minutes before they become the fragment.” Tom frowned as a thought occurred to him, “Tell you what though, whoever he is, if like us he’s after the Crown, he won’t leave until the fragment appears.”

Edward closed his eyes and screwed up his face in concentration then nodded. “You are quite right, Tom. He is still on board. He is … oh my … he’s in the Captain’s cabin!”

Tom’s eyes widened, “The others: come on, let’s go!” he yelled and without waiting for Edward, he Walked down through the vessel to the keel corridor near the bow of the airship, above the control car and just outside the Captain’s cabin.

As they materialised, Edward gave a cry of alarm, seized Tom and yanked him sideways. An instant later, Septimus tumbled out of the doorway, blood streaming from his nose. Without hesitation, Edward rushed into the room followed by a slightly more reluctant Tom, to find themselves face to face with two huge men.

Both were at least six foot six inches tall, bald-headed, wore boiler suits and appeared to be identical twins. One of them, his face bearing a scar above the right eyebrow, had presumably just punched Septimus, for the other had Charlie in an arm lock around his neck and was squeezing the sailor’s throat. Charlie was clawing at the man’s hands, choking and struggling to get free. A third man – the redhead in the Chelsea shirt, who was clearly the leader of the trio – was pointing his gun at a terrified Mary, who stood cowering beside the Captain’s desk.

As Tom and Edward burst into the cabin, the redhead swung the pistol round to cover them and in that instant Tom saw that the door of the safe was hanging open, its contents strewn across the desk. Amongst them was a jewellery case.

“Now now, gentlemen, no need to take any risks,” the leader waved the gun from Tom to Edward. “We all want to get off this airship alive, don’t we?” He glanced at the huge twins, “Orme, get the pearls!”

The big man with the scarred face grunted and stepped towards the desk, but at that moment, Mary lunged for the jewellery case. The leader swung the pistol back and again the silenced weapon pointed at the girl.

“Don’t try my patience, lass. I warn you: I will shoot if I must,” the man threatened, frowning as Mary flung her arms upwards and screamed, “Wall!” There was a flash of light and surrounding her now was a shimmering shield of frozen time.

“Nice trick, lass!” the leader said and with a mocking grin he Walked, appeared on top of the desk and pushed Mary roughly to the ground, the shield disintegrating as she fell. Seizing the jewellery case, her assailant jumped down and an instant later the gun was once more pointing first at Tom then at Edward. They exchanged a despairing glance: they had not had a chance to move; Charlie was still struggling and gasping for breath … and the seconds were ticking away.

“Right! Orme, Jez we have them both. Back to location Y,” the redhead ordered and the three of them were gone.

Septimus staggered back into the room, blood still streaming from his nose, whilst Edward ran over and helped Mary to her feet and Charlie stood coughing, one hand massaging his bruised throat.

“Where are they?” Septimus asked turning to Edward.

“Gone … to the rear of the airship,” Edward shouted. “Around ring 62, I think.”

“What do we do now?” Charlie gasped.

“Get us after them, Tom!” Septimus snapped.

“It is only seconds before the pearls … whichever set it is, becomes the fragment,” Tom warned. As he spoke, the sound of bellowed orders and the clattering of running feet echoed through the open doorway as a group of men hurtled down the corridor towards the front of the ship.

Septimus leapt to the opening and quickly closed the door, but stood holding the handle in case anyone should try to enter. Whoever they were though they did not stop at the Captain’s cabin, but carried right on by. “Those are crewmen running towards the bow to help straighten up the Hindenburg,” he explained. “The Captain had some difficulty keeping it straight and he used their weight to level it out. That was only just before the fire. In other words, we don’t have long: come on Tom, NOW!”

Tom Walked them all back through the ship to the corridor near ring 62. It ran into a dead end just behind them – the very rear of the ship. On either side of them were long, white, oval-shaped canisters the size of coffins – ballast tanks, Tom thought. Above them a ladder ran vertically up through the ship between the gas cells. A few rungs up the ladder, still holding his pistol and pointing it at them, was the red-headed man in the Chelsea shirt. Higher up the twins were hanging on to the ladder, each holding out a single set of the pearls they had stolen.

“Just stay there, Septimus,” said the redhead. “No need for a fuss. I only need a few seconds more.”

Tom gaped at Septimus: the fact that this man knew the Welshman by name came as a great surprise and not just to Tom judging by the shocked faces of his companions. They all turned to look at Septimus.

The Welshman paid them no heed. Glaring up at the stranger, his face twisting with outrage, he spoke at last. “Damn you, Rolf Lapace! I thought we agreed to keep out of each other’s way.”

The other man snorted. “Yes, well, IF you recall the conversation, what we actually agreed was to avoid competing for the same contract. It seems that you and I are working for different employers who are apparently both interested in the same item just now. I appear to have possession of that item – one of these,” he gestured at the two sets of pearls dangling above his head. “We will see which one in a moment – so don’t try anything stupid. I would hate to have to shoot an old pal! It might cause an explosion,” he laughed.

“Keep him talking, I’ll get up there,” Tom whispered to Septimus and he slid back behind the Welshman and out of sight. Then, as he Walked, he felt Mary slip her hand onto his elbow. They materialised side by side on the ladder directly above the uppermost one of the big brutes – the scar-faced one: Orme, thought Tom; the lower one must be Jez.

When they appeared, both he and Mary clamped one hand onto a rung to steady themselves. The sudden noise drew Orme’s attention and he glanced up at them, but not quickly enough to prevent Mary from reaching down to grab the pearls. He swayed, almost overbalancing, slack mouth falling open in his brutish, unintelligent features.

“Boss!” Orme’s very deep voice boomed.

Lapace looked up to where Tom and Mary balanced precariously on the ladder. He whipped the pistol round and without hesitation fired a shot. The bullet missed Mary by an inch and there was a ping as it ricocheted off the rung next to her head and flew away.

“Lapace, you fool!” Septimus yelled, “The whole ship is full of hydrogen!”

As if in response to those words there was a muffled explosion above them. Tom glanced upwards. The ladder upon which he, Mary, Lapace and his grunts clung ran up above his head, emerging in another corridor – the axial one that ran though the very centre of the airship. Another ladder ran up again from there to the top of the airship and ended at a ventilation shaft that led out onto the external surface. There – high up at the top of the Hindenburg  – a gas cell had been punctured and, as Tom looked on with horror, it suddenly erupted into flames.

“Oh, my God!” he yelled as the fire spread down towards them.

Still clutching the string of pearls, Mary held out her hand and grunted in concentration. Just as she had done once before in Pudding Lane, she held the flames at bay. However, the fire in 1666 had not been fuelled by thousands of tons of hydrogen. Sweat collected in beads on her forehead as she struggled to contain the ball shaped inferno that threatened to expand and incinerate them along with the ship.

Biting his lip, Tom stood as if paralysed, watching whilst the fireball glowed and flickered like a miniature sun that would devour the Hindenburg in just a few brief moments.  In the last few months he had faced death on more than one occasion, but never had it been more terrifying.

Just then he heard a new sound: a strange screeching, like someone running their nails down a blackboard. Distracted by the fiery globe only thirty feet above his head, it took Tom a moment to realise the sound was coming from below, not above. He glanced down and saw that the string of pearls in the hands of Orme’s brother, Jez, was glowing intensely. All eyes were drawn to it as the sounds and the glowing lights seemed to reach a crescendo. Then Tom saw that Jez no longer held a string of pearls, but instead he now clutched a shard of metal. Tom recognised it instantly as a piece of an ornate crown: the Crown from his dream.

“Sorry lass,” Lapace drawled, “bad luck and all, but it looks like you’ve got the wrong one there,” he taunted. “Let’s go boys!”

The three of them vanished away from the Hindenburg, leaving Mary holding a string of beads; just an ordinary set of pearls. She was pale as snow, her brows drawn together as she swayed on the ladder, her strength almost at an end. The fireball began to inch towards them.

“Blast!” Septimus cursed.

“They are not on board anymore,” Edward shouted up. “Maybe I can track them, and we can follow?”

“I can’t hold it any longer!” Mary cried. She slumped exhausted into a dead faint, letting go of the ladder and tumbling away. Tom reached out and seized her with one hand as she fell, but her weight jerked him off the ladder. They both landed in a crumpled heap in the keel corridor.

Above them there was a detonation. The entire ship shook with the violence of it, throwing them all off their feet. As they struggled back upright the fire erupted forwards through the gas cells and down towards them. Then the Hindenburg lurched and tilted backwards onto its tail.

The sudden movement of the airship saved their lives, removing them from the worst effects of the blast. The five of them tumbled to the dead end of the keel corridor, rolling over each other and ending up as a mass of arms and legs, with Tom buried underneath them all. Mary came to with a groan then screamed.

Charlie, on top of the heap, seized Tom’s arm. “Tom, get us away now! For God’s sake NOW!” he yelled as the heat around them grew fierce and fire proceeded to incinerate the great vessel.

Tom closed his eyes and just Walked. Anywhere, any time was better than here and now, but as he Walked them all away, he realised that, as once before, the Map was spinning and the Clock’s hands were rotating erratically: he had no control over where they were going. They all cried out in panic as they hurtled through the void, still an entangled ball of limbs.

“Concentrate, Tom, concentrate!” Septimus yelled.

“I can’t!” Tom shouted back, panicking now.

“Yes you can, lad. Just focus on the Map. Focus on one point on it – Hyde Park. Find the Serpentine and get us there.”

“I … I … OK, I will try!” Tom stammered. He tried to block out everything else and just find the lake in the Park. There: he had it. Now, just go there and try and get the date right.

“Go – go now!” he shouted and suddenly, with nauseating abruptness, they hurtled out of the void and landed with a mighty splash right in the centre of the Serpentine.

There followed a few moments of paddling and splashing around as they swam to the side of the lake and, to the amusement of city workers and some French tourists, they emerged, dripping on the grass.

After he had caught his breath, Septimus turned to Tom and said, “OK, I’ll admit it: I did say ‘find the Serpentine’. But I didn’t expect you to land us right in it, boyo!

My spring Newsletter is out now with news on Pre orders for Yesterday’s Treasures, the New edition of The Amber Treasures plus lots of up coming events of interest to lovers of books and games. Go to http://mim.io/5af7f to read it.

This is a guest post I did on Helen Hollick’s Blog about how to organise a Virtual Book Tour

Please welcome my guest Richard Denning
Today Richard Denning, who has self published Tomorrow’s Guardian via his own Mercia Books, is a guest.
He has organised his own Virtual Book tour or Blog Tour and I wanted to find out more.
Richard: Hello Helen and thanks for having me on your blog.

Helen: Richard, could you tell my Blog visitors a little about you & your books?
Richard: Sure. I am 43 and work as a GP in North Birmingham. I am married with two children. I have always had an interest in Science Fiction, Fantasy and also History. I love the books of Tolkien (Lord of the Rings), Terry Pratchett (The Disc World novels), Bernard Cornwell (Sharpe, The Saxon and Longbow series) and George MacDonald Frazer (Flashman). Those and TV such as Star Trek, Farscape, Angel, Stargate, along which historical mysteries like Cadfael and Poirot have had a strong influence on my writing.

I have been writing since the age of about 32 and I have three series which I am writing. The Amber Treasure is about 6th and 7th century Northumbria and the early years of Saxon England. The Last Seal is historical fantasy set in the 17th century and the book I have just released in paperback, Tomorrow’s Guardian is a teen time-travel adventure. The sequel will be out later in the spring.

Helen: Why did you decide to go self publish with your books?
Richard: Traditionally the only real route to publication was to get an agent and publisher. That is of course a valid route and an option I am also exploring. But with the economy still fragile it is an extremely hard time to get a publisher. My books had been read and enjoyed by a number of readers and I decided to try self publishing as a way of getting the books into more hands.
The world is changing and with the rapid rise of e-books sales and the ability to sell on Amazon and the internet this is a good time for small press and self published authors to get their work out there.
In the end what counts is the quality of the books. If readers enjoy the books and want to read more it really does not matter HOW the book got to them.

Helen: You are in the middle of a Blog Tour I believe? What is a Blog or Virtual Book Tour?
Richard: If you go back a few years the only way for an author to promote books was to visit book shops all over the country. This method is still used of course and meeting readers is a great aim. However, the internet has changed everything.
Rather than an author getting 40 or 50 people (if they are lucky) at a book tour visit to a book shop they can access hundreds and even thousands via visits to Book Blog sites.
These are blogs [HH. the word blog is a shortened version of Web Log] where the writer reviews books, interviews the author and discusses themes and ideas that might come up in the books.
These posts stay online and show up in search engines. They can be linked to from other blogs and websites and so readers can see it months or years after the original posting.

Helen: What gave you the idea to do a blog tour? How did you set it up and run it?
Richard: I saw your tour Helen, for The Forever Queen and thought it sounded something worth trying. I had also read about the idea on various sites that discussed book promotion.
To set the tour up I spent a few hours Googling terms like Young Adult Fiction Blog, Book Blogs UK, Sci fi Book Blogs etc. I visited the sites and looked over the types of books they covered to see if they appeared to match the genre of Tomorrow’s Guardian. I read the policy page on the blog. Most sites have these and they tell you if they will review your book, whether they want e-books or hard copy, whether they will deal with self published authors etc.
I also followed links from the blog rolls these sites had . Those are lists of other blogs they follow.
I drew up a list of appropriate sites and emailed the owner. Some did not reply, some said no thanks but many were friendly and happy to be part of the blog tour.
It is important to be polite and that usually pays off.
I then organised a schedule for the tour and offered people dates. I also offered to do guest posts and interviews (like this one). Blog owners want content and if you can provide this they will often say yes. When the tour goes live you need to let people know about it via Twitter, Facebook and Newsletters.

Helen: On the whole do you think it’s been useful or not?
Richard: Well it is still in the middle of the tour but I have to say yes. It is not all wine and roses of course. Some reviewers might not like the book.
You may not manage to get all the sites to go through with the post. People get busy and other plans get in the way. It takes time to organise and you must be willing to take rejection from some site owners. But it is a great way of rapidly accumulating reviews.
Be sure, by the way, to ask the reviewer to also add reviews on Good Reads and Amazon. Having reviews to quote from is one bonus.
You have also got the word out to hundreds of readers you never contacted before. I also found that doing the guest posts and interviews made me think more about my writing, what I write and why and that helps in being able to market the books in the future.

Helen: As you are a self published author, did you find most of the blogs you approached friendly and helpful or were they a bit snooty about “vanity published”?
Richard: I did not approach sites that openly said they did not take Self published books. Some were even quite rude about it in their policy statements. You just ignore those sites of course.
A few sites without any explicit policy did decline to be part of the tour on the grounds my books were self published, so yes there is still a lot of snobbery out there and a lot of people who reject any self published authors.
It is not just SP. Some sites look at small press authors or turn down Print On Demand authors.
I did find one site who I came across asking about Mercia Books (my publishing house) and whether they were mainstream or vanity publishers. From my website and the books they could not tell.

I have to ask: if an author can present a professionally produced and edited book, on a professionally imaged publuisheing site and a professionally presented blog site resulting in readers unable to tell if they are SP or not…. then should these people who belittle self publishing not be taking a long look at their attitude?

I think the world of publishing is going to be shaken by the e-book revolution.

Helen: You have several books – what one of your characters is your favourite?
Richard: I would have to say probably Septimus Mason from Tomorrow’s Guardian. He is a bit of a rogue, a mercenary adventurer who makes money travelling back in time, stealing historical objects and selling them in the present day. He is a little but like Han Solo and a little bit like Captain Jack Sparrow.

Helen: Finally, can you tell us a little about Tomorrow’s Guardian

Richard: Tomorrow’s Guardian is a teen time travel adventure. Experiencing disturbing episodes of deja -vu, eleven year old Tom believes he is going mad. Then, he meets the adventurer Septimus Mason, who shows him that he is a Walker- someone who can transport himself to other times and places. Septimus explains that these abilities could be removed leaving him, once more, an ordinary schoolboy. Given the hurt these talents have caused, the choice would seem easy enough,but it is not so simple.

In dreams, Tom has experienced life as other Walkers  in times of mortal danger: Edward Dyson killed at the Battle of Isandlwana, 1879; Mary Brown who perished in the Great Fire of London, 1666; and finally Charlie Hawker, a sailor who was drowned on a U-boat in 1943. Reluctantly agreeing to travel back in time and rescue them, Tom has three dangerous adventures before returning to the present day.

Tom’s troubles have only just started, however, for he has now drawn the attention of powerful individuals who seek to use him to change history and to bend it to their will. This leads to a struggle wherein Tom’s family are obliterated and Tom must make a choice between saving them and saving his entire world.

Tomorrow’s Guardian
RRP £9.99  Available at £6.99 on my website
Published: January 2011
ISBN: 9780956483560
Published by Mercia Books.
Sequel is coming Spring 2011

Helen: you have been asked to organise a dinner party – which ten people would you invite and why?
You can have anyone, alive, dead or fictional.
Richard: All four of my favourite authors Tolkien, Pratchett, Frazer and Cornwell. I would love to be able to chat about their books and their writing. Bilbo Baggins because he knows how to have a good time and likes his food and drink. Hercule Poirot for when someone gets murdered (come on its inevitable – it is a dinner party). The Duke of Wellington and Alexander the Great so we can discuss the great battles of history. Sir Ian Botham (I am a cricket fan so he and I can talk about the game). Oh and why not Steven Moffat the Dr Who director and writer. Love to talk about his stories and find out what is going to happen in the next series.

Tom Oakley experiences disturbing episodes of déjà-vu and believes he is going mad.

Then he discovers that he’s a “Walker” – and can transport himself to other times and places.

Tom dreams about other “Walkers” in moments of mortal danger: Edward Dyson killed in a battle in 1879; Mary Brown who perished in the Great Fire of London; and Charlie Hawker, a sailor who drowned on a U-boat in 1943.

Agreeing to travel back in time and rescue them, Tom has three dangerous adventures, before returning to the present day. But Tom’s troubles have only just begun. He finds that he’s drawn the attention of evil individuals who seek to bend history to their will.

Soon, Tom’s family are obliterated and Tom must make a choice between saving them and saving his entire world.

Tomorrow’s Guardian is a Young Adult Fantasy Novel.

Tomorrow’s Guardian Paperback publication date: 27 December 2010
ISBN: 9780956483560 (Hourglass Institute Series Book 1)

Reviews:

What Robert James says about Tomorrow’s Guardian:

‘Richard Denning, … keeps the action fast and furious for the 400 or so pages of the book. Diving in and out of time, and in and out of the Twisted Reality (the other universe), there’s never a dull moment as the inevitable confrontation with the evil Redfeld, villain of the piece, comes closer and closer.’

‘I recommend it to readers around Tom’s age, many of whom I confidently expect to absolutely love it. ‘

Read the full review here: http://thebookbag.co.uk/reviews/index.php?title=Tomorrow’s_Guardian_by_Richard_Denning

I recieved Tomorrows Guardian on Thursday and my youngest James (10) and I are reading it together. It’s causing bedtime issues in that he wants to read more than time allows.

Great story. Sue Rankin

Flamingnet (US Teen Fiction website)

Teens will love this book because they can relate to Tom who is their age and very believable. Since Tom is from another country, the reader has a chance to travel to another place. With Tom’s time traveling, the reader gets taken to a different time too.

Full  review here:
http://www.flamingnet.com/bookreviews/newreviews/newbookreview.cfm?title=Tomorrows%20Guardian&CFID=43812585&CFTOKEN=13523675

Coming spring 2011, The Hourglass Institute book 2: Yesterday’s Treasures

Everyone is searching for pieces of ‘The Crown of Knossos:’ historical artefacts which when assembled allow control over all of history in this and in the Twisted reality. The Hourglass Institute, Redfeld’s masters and even the Directorate are soon in the hunt. One by one the pieces are found but eventually Tom and the others discover who is really after The Crown and what their motivations are.

Then they realise the extent of the danger, for ‘Yesterday’s Treasures’ can mean the destruction of tomorrow.

Find out more: http://www.tomorrowsguardian.com/