‘Worldview’ is being prepared for publication sometime in the next year.

Q1: What is the concept behind the book? 

Worldview isn’t just an art book. It’s a depiction of the worldviews and belief-systems of the future, or at least what I envision them to be in my fictional world. Worldview is intended to be an encyclopedia of a twisted and corrupt futuristic Earth, where nations have been openly replaced by corporations, leaving little freedom to the populations who serve under them. The book will be packed with 200 pages of images and descriptions. Once Worldview is published, I intend to create a series of books to follow, all based on the worldview environment. These books will be in the same picture/text format, but will be more character-based, and will incorporate stories, plots, and adventures.

Q2: Where did you find the inspiration for the pictures?

I’m not entirely sure where my inspiration for the images comes from, as I seriously avoid ‘googling’ other imagery in case I regurgitate it. I watch all genres of film, listen to a lot of soundtrack music, and I look at a lot of structures in the city where I live. I also speak with lots of new people every day, mostly strangers, who tell me about their lives and struggles. Maybe all this adds up to what I produce..? I try hard to avoid generic stuff, as there’s way too much of it about, and it’s all been perfected many times over by numerous other artists.

Q3: What techniques did you use to create the pictures?

I paint everything from scratch in Photoshop, using a Wacom tablet and a 27″ iMac. I don’t know how to use any 3D software, and I’m too lazy to learn. I don’t plan anything, or sketch initial ideas as such, I just have a rough idea in my mind and start blocking in shapes to see where it all goes. For those who are familiar with Photoshop, I make heavy use of the lasso tools to create hard edges. Lately, I seem to have become keen on using lots of saturated colours.

James in his own words:

I was born on the Isle of Wight, and started to move around the UK from age 22, playing electric guitar, and working in Radio. Currently I live in Bristol, where I’ve lived for the last 14 years. I’m a self-taught artist, who exploited YouTube and ‘how to draw’ books, beginning about 10 years ago. I’ve been a professional concept artist for about 9 of those years, as I was lucky to get sporadic paid work early in my learning phase. I seriously miss the coast, and I’m convinced I’ll end up moving to Cornwall in the near future, where I’ll continue my art books and working for clients.

You can find James and admire his work on Facebook, Instagram, Deviantart and Artstation.

‘32 was bad. Boy’s family went to California. Then Ma got the fever and died, and Pa did what he always done in times of trouble. He run away.

I stayed in the cabin to lick my wounds. After I shot me a couple bears, and a neighbour of evil intent, I got left pretty much alone.

So there it was. Thanksgiving. Me alone. I never expected no knock on the door and I opened her just a crack. My boy stood there in his cracked boots and foolish grin.

“It’s a long way to walk from Californy,” he said…

©jane jago

Dying to be Roman by Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook is a whodunit set in a modern day Britain where the Roman Empire still rules. If you missed previous episodes you can start reading from the beginning.

Dai looked down at Julia.
“You think they are in the wind, don’t you?” he asked.
“Yes. I really, really do. And maybe we’ll never catch up with them.”
“Do you think it is just those three?”
“I don’t know. And I don’t see how it can be. I just wish I could get a handle on what they are up to. Is it betting? Or what?”
Decimus looked at them and snapped his teeth together.
“I think you two are missing something here. Four women from patrician families. Three with unsatisfactory husbands, one with an unsatisfactory job.”
Dai scratched his head.
“Domina Lydia, Octavia Tullia Scaevia, Annia Bellona Flavia, and…”
“Marcella Tullia Junius,” Julia supplied.
“Yes, her. I don’t know about her, but I don’t see the other three masterminding any sort of a plot.” He looked embarrassed.
Decimus actually gave a bark of laughter.
“The boy has a point, Julia. Lydia is as stupid as she is arrogant. Octavia isn’t as pathetic as she chooses to appear but she’s no genius. And the Flavian woman was almost criminally incompetent. That just leaves Marcella Junius. I don’t really know her, but she has the reputation of being both intelligent and as cold as ice. So maybe. Just maybe.”
Julia kicked his desk with one small booted foot.
“Just those four? I wonder. Whatever. If they have poofed we are in trouble. We know they are part of something;, what we have to do now is prove it, and that could be the sticking point.” She fulminated a bit more. “Do you know what really strokes my fur backwards? The Britons. Three athletes in their prime and one half-stupid beastmaster, all killed for no better reason than to hide whatever that lot were part of.”
Dai and the stolid Boudicca exchanged a glance of surprised appreciation. Julia caught that look and stamped her foot in sheer frustration.
“And you two are pissing me off as well. Just because I’m Roman I’m not capable of caring about the lives of Britons? Well I do care. I really bloody care. I joined up to protect everybody, be they Citizens or not. And you can believe me or disbelieve me. About that, I’m beyond caring.”
Dai had the grace to look ashamed, and Boudicca smiled albeit grimly.
“Fair enough, domina. I should have known that a friend of the Tribune’s would be made of good stuff.” Then she subsided, as if aware that she had probably said far too much for an ex-slave.
“Sit down, woman,” Decimus growled. “I’ll get us something to drink while we wait.”
Another bad- tempered clang on his bell brought a young guard running.
“Don’t look scared, lad. I won’t eat you. Just get that idle spado of a house steward to rustle up a drink and a snack for four.”
The guard saluted smartly and went about his business.

In a remarkably short space of time there was a scratch on the door and a procession of servitors brought in a flagon of mead and one of small beer, a tray of the finest glasses from Venezia, and a selection of snacks ranging from olives and salty Hellenic cheese to tiny fried dough balls filled with apple and cream.
Eating and drinking eased a lot of the tension. So much so that Julia was emboldened to put a hand on Dai’s forearm.
“Sorry Dai. I was well out of order there.”
He actually patted her hand.
“No. Truly, you weren’t. I need reminding sometimes that Romans are human.”
For the first time since they met, Julia sensed a genuine thaw in Dai’s attitude to her. She was grateful. By telling herself that such a shift would help their working relationship no end, she could consciously choose to ignore the fact that the tall Celt with his snapping blue eyes was stirring feelings she had no wish to think about.
Before such impure thoughts could sour her improving mood, there was a respectful tap in the door.
“Come.”

Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook

Hearts don’t break,
Though they may creak, 
May bleed and ache,
Feel cracked and and bleak.
The loss of hope
Won’t stop your breath,
Though you may mope
And wish for death.
Hearts sustain 
Though love is fleeting.
Through the pain 
They keep on beating 

©️jj 2019

Dying to Find Proof is the tenth Dai and Julia Mystery from Jane Jago and E.M. Swift-Hook.

Dai waited until the two women had taken the last seats and Edbert moved to lean against the wall behind Julia. Then he lifted a hand to quiet the low murmurs of conversation and spoke into the ensuing silence.
“My friends, family, fellow Citizens and fellow Britons, we are gathered here today to plot the downfall of Magistratus Sextus Catus Bestia.”
A collective tension seemed to seep through the room. It was as if by naming the evil they had come to fight he had in some way upped the ante. Dai paused, both to allow his words to settle and to allow the chance for anyone to protest or respond. But there was a solid, supportive silence and those faces which had looked relaxed a few moments before seemed to grow more cold and stern. No one here was taking this lightly. They all had too much at stake.
“I thank you all for coming here today and taking time from the celebration to meet. I know I don’t need to do any introductions, there may be a couple of faces unfamiliar to you but we don’t have much time and I doubt we will be able to meet like this again – all in one place. We also can’t use regular channels.” He tapped his new wristphone. “Given the authority he wields, Bestia can have any or all of us monitored. SI Gaius has an idea to set up secure lines of communication and will tell us about those later. For now, it’s enough to know that we will all be able to keep in touch and to be aware that we mustn’t communicate anything outside this room any other way.”
He stopped talking and looked around at the sixteen other people in the room, for a moment, remembering too vividly the place challenging Bestia’s power had left him. An underground prison cell with its bleak despair and hopeless doom. He could not allow anyone else here to wind up in that place.
“But first I need to be sure everyone understands the stakes here. This is not a game where if we lose we get a screen turning black and a ‘play again’ button. If we mess this up it’s game over for good, for all of us, because don’t doubt for a moment we’d be made to betray each other.”
 Enya looked as if she was about to deny that, but Dai could see the moment she noticed even the hard faces of Decimus and Gallus, both veterans of Praetorian battlefields, were not disagreeing with him.
“We know this,” Aoife said, sounding impatient. “So let’s get to what we don’t know.”
Dai nodded to acknowledge both her words and her right to say them.
“I just wanted to give everyone the chance to walk away from this and not get involved any deeper,” he explained, which provoked a throaty laugh from Lavinia
“I don’t think we could really be in any less deep than having agreed to be here in the first place. I can tell you don’t read much crime fiction. Remind me to gift you my back catalogue.”
Dai managed a weak smile.
“Um. Thank you.” He could see the meeting beginning to slip away from him already. “So, if no one wants to leave…?”
No one moved. Dai had not really expected anyone would, but he still experienced a relaxing of muscles he hadn’t realised he’d been holding tense.
“In brief,” he went on, feeling more confident now, “where as we know Bestia is the man who has been behind the headless murders last autumn, the killing of street women this spring and the attempt to have me condemned for treason last month, we have no hard evidence to back up our knowledge. What we now need to do is find solid proof that he did these things. And much as I would like to tie him to all three crimes as all those affected are equally deserving of justice, we have to keep in mind that we only need incontrovertible proof that he was responsible for one in order to have him arrested and condemned and thus stop him doing more and probably worse.”
It was not a thought he liked and he could see a few faces become a shade grimmer as people reflected on how they would feel if their own need for justice wasn’t met. Surprisingly, it was someone he thought would be the most urgent in their need for personal retribution who spoke up.
“What matters most is stopping this man,” Agrippina Julius said, her voice firm. “If that means SI Calvus or others have to take their justice at second hand then so be it.”
There were nods of assent from around the room, even if some such as Brangwen Broanan were more reluctant than others and Dai felt another lurch of relief. This was, as yet, an untried alliance and he knew it was down to him to somehow weave it together into a strong rope with which to hang Bestia.

You can keep reading if you snag a copy of the novella.

In Yggdrasil those who believe
Find peaceful relaxation 
Her holy lakes, her waterfalls
Are aids to contemplation 
Where warriors whose heaving chests 
Were rendered still by wasted breath
Now sit beneath the lady’s breast
And understand there is no death

In Yggdrasil the goddess rules
With one eye blue, one red
Who loves the wise men and the fools
And gathers all the dead

In Yggdrasil, the waters wait
And in their calmness drown all hate

© jj 2019

Welcome to the Hotseat of Truth, a device in which your protagonist is trapped. The only way to escape is to answer five searching questions completely honestly or the Hotseat will consume them to ashes! 

Today’s victim is Durban Chola who you can find in the Fortune’s Fools saga by E.M. Swift-Hook.

Accepting the fact that you may not be exactly what you appear, did you have any input into what you look like? Is there anything you would change if you could?

I had no more choice than anyone else about how I look. My looks were to a large degree pre-determined by genetic necessity, which is perhaps something many in Central have escaped, but for most of humanity is still the rule. Though it is true to say that the genetic necessity that went into my body was not that of the average human. 
Sadly we live in a galaxy where appearances do matter. Would I like to change anything about the way I look? **laughs** When I need to I do. But mostly I find my appearance works well enough. No one runs screaming when they see me and I don’t have the problem of being pursued because of my looks. You could Ask my friend Jariq Zarengor about how that plays out, his issue has always been that he is too good-looking.

From time to time you have been known to pick up a musical instrument and play. Do you derive comfort from music?

I am not sure comfort is the right word. The instrument I play is the lysigal which is a thirteen stringed instrument known only on the Western Continent of Temsevar. The strings are set on a crossbar between two horns and the soundbox bells out below and to the side giving it a surprising volume at need. It is a very versatile acoustic instrument that can be played to sound ebullient and martial or gentle and whimsical and I love that range and variety.
Mostly nowadays I play it to help free my mind to focus. I suppose it is a form of meditation. The patterns in the music seem to help me perceive and formulate patterns in events and concepts. It is as if playing silences some aspect of my mind and allows others to step to the fore and be heard.
Yes, it can be a source of peace, but it is also always a reminder of other times and of people I have loved and lost. It can also be a gateway to memories I’d rather forget. Then it brings me no comfort at all. Music is like that, potent.

In all the time you have been in this incarnation of yourself, have you ever loved a human? If so, who?

I like to think I love all humanity. I tried to explain it to Avilon once, but I’m not sure it really got through, but perhaps it is still the best explanation of why I love the human race…
“I have sung songs written to move the heart, I have seen the glory of a sunrise and the felt the thrill of watching the bright splash of lights over a city at night. I have danced under the stars, laughed with friends, got drunk in a tavern, made love in the damp grass, argued with a philosopher, played games with a child, bargained with a merchant, marvelled with a scientist, travelled with an explorer,explorer, shed blood with a soldier and dreamt the dreams of a poet. I have known pride and sorrow, courage and friendship, fear and hatred, love and loss.”
No one can experience those things and not learn to love the incredible contradiction of the human condition.
But I think you might be asking more specifically. About individuals. In that case I am not sure exactly what you mean by ‘love’. If you mean the deep affection I feel for a friend like Charis or the utter devotion I have for my sister, then yes, I have loved. If you mean romantically – I have had a few crushes for sure, but love? **laughs** I think love is only known in its time of trial, otherwise it is little more than a delightful recreational, making you feel good in the moment.

Which of your human companions has frustrated you most? And why?

Avilon. Undoubtedly. The lack of trust, the ability to see through what I am doing as I do it. Someone much too perceptive and intelligent – which is why Avilon is also the one person I most value – need – as an ally.

In your quest, you have experienced betrayal, reversals and physical harm, and your companions have suffered greatly too. Can you honestly say the end will have justified the means?

My quest? **laughs** I suppose it must seem like that from the outside. I have to say though, my aims and ambitions are neither singular nor linear, so I’m not sure that really works as a descriptor, but you are the one asking the questions so let’s run with that idea for now.
To answer your question honestly, I don’t think I can ever know the answer. It is not for me to judge. It is something for others, those who live out what I have set in motion, to judge. Of course, I believe it does when I act or I would not do what I do. But in the end? Who knows how things will play out? I am not omniscient and I don’t even have the advantage of Kahina Sarava’s Future Data to tell me the probable outcome of my actions. I can only work towards what I see as a worthwhile goal.
One thing I seem able to do that others struggle with is set aside approaches or even entire projects if I see they have failed. Others seem more inclined to try and patch the unpatchable and try to keep going, as if the investment they have made already means they dare not let go. I learned young that you can’t do that and hope to succeed. It is better to accept defeat and open a new way forward than to expend all your energy trying to restore a ruined hulk to working order.
So ask those who inherit the results of my deeds in a thousand years time. Perhaps by then all I ever did will seem pointless and irrelevant. I hope not, I believe not, but I can’t be sure. No one ever can.

You can read more about Durban in Fortune’s Fools by E.M. Swift-Hook.

They said two people lived in the Queen’s skin. And those who brought petitions to the Elfking’s palace would not know which Queen sat in judgement of their lives until they heard her footfalls: would it be the irritable staccato of the ice maiden or the quiet pad of the healer? Could they look to justice being served up with the bite of an asp or the benison of a sunbeam?

It was unsettling never to know, but it did ensure that the palace ran like clockwork.

In the Elfking’s quarters the twins tossed a coin. Loser to play judge…

©jane jago

From The Cracksman Code by Jane Jago

When he came home the next night Anna greeted him with a big kiss and a wry grin.
“Sandra and Esmond brought his laptop over.”
“Oh. That’s my fault isn’t it. I probably shouldn’t have mentioned computer geek. If people know that about you they’ll be beating a path to our door with their sickly electronics. Sorry.”
“Not a problem with those two, though I have sworn them to secrecy, but it might be good policy not to mention my magic fingers to anyone else.”
Sam looked a bit puzzled.
“It’s like this,” Anna said seriously, “I can do stuff with computers you probably wouldn’t even begin to imagine. Most of it is immoral and almost all of it is illegal. There are a lot of bad guys out there who would like nothing better than to find a hacker of my quality, and they wouldn’t be particularly bothered about the means they used to ensure my cooperation. One of the young guys I met on a training course wasn’t careful who he talked to. They killed his dog when he wouldn’t do what they wanted. I was careful before, but that made me paranoid.”
“Oh my god. Anna. I never thought.”
He pulled her to him in a rough hug. She hugged him back hard.
“My fault. I should have thought to tell you. And Esmond and Sandra just assumed that I had the average accountant’s computer skills. I didn’t disillusion them. I just looked at the heap of dog crap he laughingly calls a laptop.”
“Did you fix it?”
“No. To use a purely technical term, it’s fucked. I got his data off it and sent him off to buy a new one. Then he has to bring it for me to set up. I’ll make it simple for him to use. And difficult to break.”
“Will you do the same for me?”
“Almost. Though you aren’t quite as hamfisted as him!”
Sam roared with laughter.
“Just don’t tell his patients that.”
“I most certainly won’t,” she said severely, “I wouldn’t want somebody who can break solid state electronics messing around with my fanny!”
This time Sam laughed until he actually had tears running down his cheeks.
“It’s a shame those two won’t be at the fecking charity bash, they might have leavened the mix a bit. But Esmond was crafty enough to plead a prior engagement.”
“Yeah. I know. He says he’s grooming the horse they don’t own!”

Jane Jago

The life of an elderly delinquent in limericks – with free optional snark…

You are old, will you please tell me this
When was the last time you were kissed?
It was late Saturday 
Having my wicked way
With a body too good to be missed

© jane jago