The lost days, the shattered skies, the utterly shameless self promotion.

I love that lost week between Christmas and New Year, that short stretch of days when you're never quite certain which day it is. As I was lolling around on my couch, gently drumming greasy fingertips on my grossly distended belly after the Christmas binge just passed, I was even foolish enough to think it would be really cool if the whole year was like this.

Well, here we are. I still have no idea what day it is, but that's because we're back in Covid Time. It's not nearly as much fun.

I'm still taking a break from shouting at the Prime Minister and inventing new swear words. But I'll get back to that next week, promise.

This week, I'm simply writing to you to let you know that I have a new book out, The Shattered Skies; the next in The Cruel Stars series.

And I love it. You're not supposed to say that, you know, as a writer. You're supposed to be all self-deprecating and shit. But honestly, I love this fucking book. I've been reading it this week because my publishers sent me a big box of hardbacks and I just couldn't help myself. It's got all the things I love most in literature. Space marines, space zombies, space lesbians, massive fucking space battles with big honking space guns, and a whole bunch of space Nazis getting punched in their ugly stupid faces again and again.

If you read The Cruel Stars and enjoyed it, you are of course my favourite. If you haven’t, we need to talk.

Should you be of a mind to pick up a copy of Skies, you can grab one at the end of this Amazon link…

And look, yes, I will totally trouser a couple of extra cents just for sending you there. I’m awful like that.

Alternatively, you could support your local indie bookstore, or even some big sprawling local chain like Dymocks, who are actually very nice people. (I got quite stoned in one of their book shops once. I think I was touring The Tasmanian Babes Fiasco and the kids in the stock room thought it would be cool to blaze up a few fat fucking doobies for me. They were right. It was very cool.)

I don’t have any choice fatties for you today, cos I ain’t like that no more. My good lady wife she done cured me of my wicked ways.

But I do have a little treat.

There is an Easter egg buried in The Shattered Skies. A Taylor Swift reference. (Sorry, I was loop-listening to Folklore while I wrote this thing. But also, not sorry.)

The first person to ID the T-Swift shout out and let me know gets a personally inscribed copy of both The Cruel Stars and The Shattered Skies and they can have a cameo in the final book, The Forever Dead.

I’ll catch up with you all next Friday. (And some of you on Monday, when the Burger does a mail out).

Cheers

JB