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An Outside Observer's Notes on a Writer Called Tom Kane

A reflective note from an outside observer

If I were asked to describe Tom from a distance, I would begin with the quiet hours. Five in the morning. A cup of coffee going cold. A screen glowing faintly in a room where most of the world is still asleep. This is where he often is, not because he must be, but because that is where his mind feels most at home.

Tom is a writer, but that is only the surface description. Beneath it is a watcher....

It is a question that sounds as though it should be asked at two in the morning, preferably while staring at the ceiling and wondering where the socks keep disappearing to. Is there a theoretical relationship between quantum mechanics and an afterlife?

The short answer is no.

The longer answer is… well, it is complicated, fascinating, and surprisingly fun to think about.

Quantum mechanics is the branch of physics that politely refuses to behave. Particles can be waves, waves can be particles,...

Pain can be a terrible thing. Pain in all my bones, throughout my body, from the chemotherapy for my 80% invasive rare form of lymphoma made me cry at night. The only relief was a bath in very hot water. Pain like that is one thing, but mental anguish is quite another.

Physical pain announces itself. It has rules. You can point to it, measure it, medicate it, describe it. People understand it, or at least they try to. They see the hospital appointments, the medication, the scars, the fatigue....

Quantum Immortality

The other day on Twitter, someone asked an entirely reasonable, perfectly sane question:

“Do you think Quantum Immortality could be real?”

Naturally, I replied that I was writing about it in my next novel, The Ragged End of Time. Because if you are going to respond to existential dread, you might as well do it with fiction.

For the uninitiated, Quantum Immortality is the comforting theory that you never actually die. From your own point of view, at least. Every time something...

They lied to me.

Not maliciously, you understand. More in the same way people lie about dogs not shedding hair, or about a “quick look” in Lidl.

They said Cyprus was warm.

And it is.

At lunchtime.

In July.

At 5am in Paphos, on a winter morning in January, Cyprus reveals its true personality. It becomes a damp, shivering reminder that the Mediterranean has a sense of humour and that it enjoys using writers as punchlines.

This morning, I woke before dawn, as writers do. Not because we're disciplined,...

As humans, we all suffer setbacks.

Trauma. Stress. Loss. And sometimes a plain old slap in the face that life delivers without warning or apology.

Health issues arrive uninvited. A loved one dies. A much-loved pet leaves a silence that is louder than noise. Marriages end. Love goes unanswered. Dreams stumble. Plans fail. Effort does not always equal reward.

We are, in many ways, carbon-based punch-bags for life to practise its moves on.

No one escapes untouched.

The trouble is not the hit itself....

I have spent the last few months conducting what can only be described as deep market research. Not with spreadsheets or focus groups, you understand, but by watching the internet very carefully while drinking coffee.

Why? Because I am an indie author, and indie authors are, by necessity, part writer, part publisher, part marketer, and part slightly bewildered Victorian inventor muttering, “If I just turn this lever…”

Like every author who has ever stared at an empty sales dashboard, I wanted...

Time travel is one of those ideas that refuses to behave. The moment it appears in fiction, it starts asking awkward questions. Can you change the past. Should you. And if you do, who pays the price.

For well over a century, writers and filmmakers have used time travel not simply as a spectacle, but as a lens through which to examine regret, destiny, and consequence.

Time Travel on Television

Television thrives on the elasticity of time travel. Doctor Who treats time as a playground, yet...

"Twas Christmas Eve in the workhouse, and the rain was snowing fast. The barefooted boy with clogs on, stood sitting on the grass." David Banks grinned as he watched his two children's faces. Emily was a mixture of disdain and boredom. Jack looked confused.

"What are clogs?" the nine year old asked.

"Wooden shoes," Emily muttered. "Dad recites that every Christmas Eve. Don't you remember last year?"

Jack shook his head. "And what's a workhouse?"

"A place poor people were sent to in Victorian...

There is a moment in every indie author’s life when you realise that writing the book was the easy part. You think the hard work is chapters, characters, plots and deadlines. You believe finishing the final draft is the end of the journey.

Then you publish your first book.

And from that moment on you become, whether you like it or not, a full time, unpaid marketing department.

For ten years now I have written stories, novels and trilogies, all of which I am proud of. I have created worlds,...

When I first started writing The Midnight Series, I had no idea quite how strongly Jessie Fordham would take hold of my imagination. I knew she would be clever, determined and quietly rebellious, but I did not expect her to grow into one of the most fascinating characters I have ever written. Looking back, it seems only right that her story begins long before she ever steps into the world of espionage.

Walking Away from Midnight is where we first meet...

Or why I sometimes miss pencils with rubbers on the end

There was a time when writing meant one thing: grabbing a pencil, licking the end of it for luck (everyone did it, nobody admits it), and getting on with it. Your entire creative arsenal consisted of:

1. A blunt pencil.
2. A shared metal pencil sharpener the teacher guarded like the Crown Jewels.
3. A rubber squeezed into a metal ring stuck at the end of said pencil to erase your spelling disasters.

That was it. No menus. No updates. No blue...

From beads on sticks to boxes that silently judge our passwords

Humanity has always had two great fears:

1. That we’ll run out of tea.
2. That someone, somewhere, will ask us to do long division.

To avoid the latter, civilisations have spent thousands of years inventing gadgets to do the thinking for us. Here is their story, or at least the version any half-awake historian would produce after an extended pub lunch.

The Abacus:
The original pocket calculator, but without pockets.

Invented so long ago...

Could We Really Have a Zombie Apocalypse?
Short Answer: Yes.
Long Answer: Oh, for heaven’s sake, imagine the queues.

Let’s be honest. For decades we’ve been warned about zombies staggering out of graveyards, supermarkets and the occasional discount DIY store, all snarling for brains. But what if the reality is far less dramatic and infinitely more annoying?

Before we get to that, let’s look at how likely a zombie apocalypse actually is. You might be surprised.

1. Science Absolutely Has the Range...

There is a curious absence in my novels.

People drown. Nations fall. Spies double-cross each other on cold Parisian rooftops. Time itself bends just to make things difficult for everyone. Empires rise and then, quite rudely, collapse before I’ve finished the chapter.

But dogs?

No. Not really. Not often. And when they do appear, they tend to trot in, look endearingly loyal, and trot back out again before anyone notices.

This is odd because in real life I am absolutely a dog person. Completely....

A personal reflection on health, fragility, and why we can’t take even a cold for granted.

I may be a cancer survivor, but my immune system has been compromised. Now, a bad cold has triggered something unexpected, fainting after sneezing. Here’s what I’ve learned about this overlooked and potentially serious condition called cough syncope.

Since finishing cancer treatment, my immune system has been living on borrowed strength. Immunotherapy has kept me stable, and for that I’m grateful, but it’...

"I regret to inform you that we can't repair it, nor can we replace it. It's company policy on signed for goods."

"But it was the last upgrade. As soon as it finished downloading the robot collapsed."

"Upgrades are made at the owner's discretion. We at Hanei's Universal Robots cannot be held responsible for an erroneous download."

"But..." There was a click and the line went dead.

"Waste of time," I muttered.

My broken robot, sat at the other side of the sofa, slumped and inert.

I stood up,...

She moved it with her mind.

That was the last entry in the victim’s diary, a shaky scrawl written as he was nearing the end of his life. I searched the pages for a clue as to who had shot dead the scientist. His lab was in perfect shape. No sign of a fight. The victim was slumped across his workbench, finger touching a desk toy, one of those gizmos of swinging metal ball-bearings.

“What was he working on?” I asked the head of research.

“Artificial Intelligence. His robot, she was his pride and...

“What just blew up?”

“Don’t know,” I said, sleepily, “but whatever it was it made a helluva a bang. I’ll go take a look.”

I slipped on my slippers and hoisted my robe round my shoulders and shuffled across the cold, tiled, floor to the front door. The dogs sat there, waiting to go out for a pee.

“You heard it too, huh?”

Duke and Daisy’s tails wagged in unison and they hopped from leg to leg in anticipation as I opened the door. I caught hold of them just in time, pulling them back into the...

Ray Colter didn’t look like trouble, but that was his game. At forty-two, with a wiry build and a face that could melt into any crowd, he was the kind of mugger who didn’t scare you until it was too late.

Tonight, his mark was an easy one, a stooped, solitary old man shuffling along a deserted side street, his overcoat flapping in the cold wind.

Ray slipped out of the shadows.

“Evening, grandpa. Hand over the wallet.” His tone was friendly enough, but the knife in his hand made the words matter....