Author interview with a difference

Choose one of your characters, and tell us a story that has them describe YOU as an author by using the character’s voice to let us know a little bit about both of you.

“So, you’re him,” Monty said. He leaned back in his chair and sipped a latte from an oversized mug.

Molly looked up from her laptop. She’d been tapping away at the keyboard ever since I arrived, looking up only as the barista had brought my coffee. I noted the look that passed between the two women and smiled to myself. They made a lovely couple, even if I said so myself.

“Yes, that’s him. I’ve been checking out his online accounts. Seems like you’re quite the online socialite.” She ran a finger down the screen. “Flickr, Facebook, LinkedIn, Twitter… Oh, so much Twitter. Even a Google Plus account. Didn’t realise people still used that. And Ello! Crikey.”

“Quite a number of dormant accounts too – mostly LiveJournal clones, random Blogger accounts. Registered on dozens of online forums. And an… interesting selection of domains registered in your name.”

I wasn’t surprised, obviously. I’d given Molly a health set of geek credentials, not to mention a rather nice new laptop courtesy of Monty’s bank account. Monty just hadn’t realised it yet.

He was my favourite, I had to admit.

No, wait. Scratch that. They were my favourites. Whilst Monty had started his adventures alone, many years ago, it was only when Molly had turned up as his erstwhile personal assistant/hacker that the adventures had really taken off. As their author, it was quite scary how sometimes I just had to sit back and let them exchange witty one-liners whilst I worked out where the particularly adventure in question was going.

“So, Mister So-called-author. I bet you’re wondering why I called you here today?” Monty said.

I nodded. It’s not every day that you get a message from one of your fictional characters via your Facebook account. I wondered if I’d given Molly a few too many geek credentials, and resolved to change all of my online passwords just to be on the safe side.

“Well, my dear boy. It boils down to this. You’ve spent many many years now writing us into some quite splendid adventures,” he paused briefly to finish off his coffee, waved his mug at the cute barista and continued.

“But there’s one thing I’d really like to know.”

“What’s that?” I asked, curious to see what Mister Edward Montecron, ace gentleman thief, coffee lover and product of my imagination, could possibly want to know.

“Are you ever going to actually finish writing a story?”

Fair point. Jenny, the cute barista, arrived with a fresh mug of coffee for Monty and a wink for Molly. She briefly gave me a thumbs-up, pointed at Molly and mouthed ‘thank you’ to me. I blushed.

“See, you’ve written us into dozens of story snippets. Dozens! Usually half-way through some daring adventure. All kinds of crazy goings on.”

“There was the one with the dragons,” Molly interrupted.

“Yes! Case in point! Big, nasty dragons, with teeth the size of… ” he trailed off, thoughtful. “Though that was a bit of a departure for you. Usually it’s jewels, to be fair. That, and dangling from precarious ledges whilst being chased by armed security.”

He waggled a finger at me.

“Well? Are you ever going to finish one of our adventures?”


Amusingly (to me at least), I wrote this back in 2011. Still haven’t finished a Monty story.


Monty & the Minefield

The red phone on Molly’s desk rang.


She knew it was him, as he’d insisted on installing the old-fashioned bright red phone a couple of weeks earlier. It had no dial or keypad, just a large red button on the phone’s body which flashed in time to the ringer. Molly had asked if it was the actual Bat Phone, but Monty had just smiled a cryptic smile, tapped one finger against the side of his nose, and left.

Molly had, of course, made some modifications of her own. Old telephones are all very well and retro was quite the thing these days, but they gave a girl neckache, cradling the receiver on your shoulder and all that.

She pressed a button on her bluetooth headset.

“Yes, boss?”

“What’s the worst thing that you can hear when walking through a minefield?”

She paused. She was used to Monty calling her at random times wanting something or other. Was this a trick question?


“Let me rephrase that. Aside from the sound of the explosion, moments before your legs shoot past your ears, what’s the next most frightening sound?”

This time he didn’t give her a chance to answer before continuing.

“Actually, I suppose you wouldn’t actually hear the explosion, what with pressure waves and the fact you’d been more or less instantaneously turned into so many pounds of damp pink goo, but…”

She could almost hear the cogs turning in his brain.

“Sorry, yes. Where was I? Ah. I can reliably inform you that it’s the sharp ‘click’ of a pressure sensor being activated. And, since I’m still here talking to you, no prizes for guessing which one I’ve just heard.”

“Oh, shit…”

“Exactly, my dear. Are you terribly busy? I really could do with a spot of help. Rather urgently, if possible…”

~~~~ Continue reading “Monty & the Minefield”

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