The Festival, an illustrated novel co-written with Christopher Golden is out now featuring a rock show to die for! Click on the cover for more information along with ordering details.
Sixteen years ago today was my first day as a full-time writer! I can still remember sitting at my desk that first morning and starting work on the 30 Days of Night movie novelisation. Two days later I was sent the shooting script and I had to scrap my first 2 days’ work (a valuable early lesson!). It’s been so much fun, and I’ve now almost spent half my working life as a professional writer, with plenty more ups than downs.
Here’s a quick pic of the books I’ve had published since 2006.
Plenty more before that date, of course. And it’s likely I’ve missed a couple, because my shelves are about as organised as, well … me (and glancing through, yes, I forgot to include ’30 Days of Night’!) But it’s nice to look back and see how productive those 16 years have been, and these don’t include the screenplays and audio scripts, and lately the RESURGENCE game I’ve been working on.
I’m always grateful that I’m able to do what I love for a living, and thankful to each and every person who buys and reads my work. You keep reading, I’ll keep writing! There’s lots of exciting things to come. Now though, it’s time for me to head to the vicinity of Baffin Bay, where my intrepid heroes have encountered something horrible…
I’ve done the Half Brutal triathlon before, back in 2017, placing 29th out of 90 starters. And I did the Full in 2018 –– now known as the Brutalist Brutal Ever –– when a red weather warning shut Snowdon and I had to run two more laps of that lake in the dark, with a fading head torch, in 40mph winds and rain. I think they call it character building.
So I knew what I was letting myself in for doing the Half Brutal again this year, right? Well, yes. But being 5 years older, ten pounds heavier, and less fit with post-Covid loss of mojo meant that this was destined to be pretty much the hardest race I’ve ever done.
There’s definitely some advantages in revisiting a race you’ve done before, especially one like this. My Half Brutal of 2017 remains one of my favourite races out of a dozen halfs and five full-distance ironmans. The low-key organisation, cameraderie, Brutal Events’ desire to give you the best race experience, and that utterly stunning landscape made it a pleasure (if you set aside the pain for a while). So it was an easy choice to go back, and knowing the layout, the route, and what I was about to face meant I was pretty laid back about the whole thing. Pre-race butterflies, sure, but if you don’t get them you’re odd and possibly not quite human.
It’s funny how memories can fade. I’ll get back to that later.
My good mate Mike was coming up to support me, having signed up for the Half just a few weeks before and then coming down with Covid. He made the wise decision to defer––even though he was over the illness, this isn’t a race to take a chance with. So it was great having Mike take me to the start in the morning, help me carry my kit, and generally ease my nervousness. Top bloke.
This is going to be fine, I thought. Atmosphere in the transition tent I’d describe as nervous excitement, with a hint of rubber and chamois cream.
I’ve done this before, I thought. It’ll be fine.
That fading memory, again …
The Swim––following a minute’s silence for the Queen, who’d passed away just two days before, we entered the water … and it was like a bath. Lovely! Ah, I thought, a good omen, this is going to be easy. I finished the swim in 34 minutes, a great time for me. Note to self: only swimming once a week for two months before a race is obviously the way to go. If such lack of training translates into decent times across the board, I was probably going to win!
Onto The Bike––I’d planned on hitting about 1:50 for each 29 mile lap around the Snowdon, and the first lap I was spot on. There’s only one nasty steep hill, and the 3 mile climb up to Pen-y-Pass is just a long slow grind, with mind-bogglingly glorious views to distract you from any discomfort. The weather was perfect, sun peeking through the clouds, and I kept glancing up at Snowdon’s summit. Cloud-wrapped one minute, clear and exposed the next. I was looking forward to getting up there later in the day, trotting up like a frisky mountain goat, leaping from rock to rock and dodging past people out to climb for the day and acknowledging their impressed applause. Yep.
The second bike lap was five minutes slower, and I was feeling it in my legs, but I still enjoyed it. Apart from almost being taken out by a car overtaking another cyclist (not racing) who was climbing Pen-y-Pass from Llanberis side, while I was descending in the middle of my lane. Mostly drivers were pretty good, but it does seem common in the area to be overtaken on blind corners, so those racing all had to keep their wits about them. Brutal’s insistence on every cyclist wearing hi-viz was very wise.
Off the bike and onto The Run––and as usual I went out too fast, happy to be on two feet and jogging around the lake. A couple of miles in and the hills hit … and so did the cramps. And no, not the punk band. I necked down some crisps at the aid station, and though salted peanuts are the devil’s own food I had a couple of handfuls, sucking in the salt.
I jogged most of the mountain climb last time, I kept thinking. I’ll be fine. Ah, my poor faded memory.
Pain is like this. I always hated the dentist, but I got through my dislike of injections etc by trying to observe objectively, and regarding the pain as research (I write for a living so anything is research). And pain is something you don’t remember after it’s gone. It’s fleeting (okay, maybe not so fleeting, as DOMS always hangs around for a few days, but you get my drift). So yeah, the pain fades, as does the memory of pain.
As I finished the lake run and tried to inhale more salty food in transition, I was actually looking forward to the mountain. 9 miles up and down and I’d done it before. No problem.
I started out, and soon the problems began. My legs were weak and cramping, and that first steep climb up the tarmac path was tough. It all very quickly became tougher. I jogged maybe 200 metres in the first mile, then I decided to just slow to a power walk. This I did, but soon the ‘power’ bit of that phrase disappered. Then the ‘walk’ bit almost vanished too, as I found myself struggling to put one foot in front of the other.
I’ve done some tough races. I like them. I’m not particularly fast in any discipline (apart from post-race cake eating, perhaps), I’ll never chase a podium, so I like challenging myself with races like The Fan Dance, Ironman Wales, Blaenavon Triathlon. But I’ve never felt so tired, weak and pained as I did climbing Snowdon. I’ve also never DNF’d, but there was half an hour on that climb when I really started to wonder if I could do it. I was necking down flapjacks and gels, drinking water, but what got me through was what I love about these types of races, and the Brutal in particular––other competitors. I started climbing with a couple of other guys, and I’m not sure I’d have finished otherwise.
At last the top was in sight, and we had glorious views, and I suddenly felt better. I knew there was no way I wouldn’t finish now, so along with the other guys I started jogging back down. Weak legs meant I almost took a tumble three or four times, but I managed to stay on my feet. Yes, it was hurting almost as much on the way down, but we could see the lake now, and we knew the pain would end soon. And then we hit the tarmac and we were almost home.
What a great feeling. Mike was at the finish waiting for me (and he bought me two much-needed coffees, loaded with sugar), Brutal Claire gave me my medal, and somehow it was Job Done.
Anyone reading this, take note – they use the name Brutal Extreme Triathlons for a reason. This half-ironman took me 9 hours, and I still finished in the top half of the field. It is … Brutal. But it is amazing.
A few beers and a curry later, I completely failed to sleep through the night because of pains in my legs and Achilles and heels, but I was buzzing. And I kept reminding myself (as I did on that long painful run) that we do this stuff because we love it.
And as for that poor fading memory––yes, toughest race ever, and I went to some very dark places despite the sun being out all the way up that mountain … but I’m already thinking about confronting the Full Brutal once again next year.
I mean, I’ve done it before, after all. I’ll be fine.
The Last Storm hits shelves and e-readers in the UK tomorrow (US fans will have to wait until July 19th). Tim has done an interview with Ginger Nuts of Horror about the book, which you can find here.
Chillercon UK is in Scarborough from Thursday this week. Tim will be at the event, and PS Publishing will be launching not one, but two new titles from Tim.
The first is a new collection of short fiction, All Nightmare Long, featuring an introduction by Sarah Pinborough and cover art by Daniele Serra. Available to pre-order from PS Publishing as either an unsigned Jacketed Hardcover, or there is a limited edition of 100 signed copies.
Urban hauntings, dark rural myths, bizarre superheroes, mysterious hotels, quiet apocalypses and violent dystopias, disturbing futures and blood-drenched histories . . .all these nightmares and more provide the contents of All Nightmare Long, Tim Lebbon’s brand new collection of short fiction.
So close your eyes, calm your breathing, and don’t be afraid.
It’s only a dream
The second release is Without Walls, a supernatural illustrated story book, which is a collaboration with Daniele Serra. Available to pre-order from PS Publishing as either an unsigned Jacketed Hardcover, or there is a limited edition of 200 copies signed by Tim and Daniele.
Jasmine lives alone in the house. It’s her whole world. It caters for her every need. The doors are locked, but that doesn’t matter, because there’s nothing outside.
One day, on the staircase, she meets another little girl who thinks the same. And Cassia will change her life forever.
A haunted house . . . two haunted girls . . . the diary of a lost boy.
Why is the house so keen to hide the truth from them? And who, or what, is the ghost?
US readers you can pre-order the forthcoming novel, The Last Storm, with a signed book plate from Copper Dog Books. UK readers, watch this space.
A gripping road trip through post-apocalyptic America.
Struck by famine and drought, large swathes of North America are now known as the Desert. Set against this mythic and vast backdrop, The Last Storm is a timely story of a family of Rainmakers whose rare and arcane gift has become a curse.
Over at Ginger Nuts of Horror you can read an exclusive extract from the novel, as well as an article detailing the writing of the novel.
Jesse stopped rainmaking the moment his abilities turned deadly, bringing down not just rain but scorpions, strange snakes and spiders. He thought he could help a land suffering from climate catastrophe, but he was wrong. When his daughter Ash inherited the tainted gift carried down the family bloodline, Jesse did his best to stop her. His attempt went tragically wrong, and ever since then he has believed himself responsible for his daughter’s death.
But now his wife Karina––who never gave up looking for their daughter—brings news that Ash is still alive. And she’s rainmaking again. Terrified of what she might bring down upon the desperate communities of the Desert, the estranged couple set out across the desolate landscape to find her. But Jesse and Karina are not the only ones looking for Ash. As the storms she conjures become more violent and deadly, some follow her seeking hope. And one is hungry for revenge.
Starting in a couple of days is the blog tour for Run Walk Crawl, drop by and see what is going on.
If you’d like to see Tim reading part of the intro then head over to Celebrate Horror 2021 for that. You can also catch Tim on the Fit Dad Podcast discussing his fitness journey. You can also find an interview with Tim over at Lee Franklin.com
In other news Tim has a story in Tales of the Lost Volume 2 – A Covid-19 charity Anthology, available from Amazon UK and Amazon US in Kindle or Paperback editions. A review of this can be found over at Ginger Nuts of Horror.
Finally PS Publishing have a new Anthology out called No More Heroes. Stories inspired by artists who left us too soon. Tim’s story, Renegade, is about one of his favourite rockers, Phil Lynott. Ordering details for a hardcover, or a limited Signed hardcover can be found here.
Welcome to 2021. Tim’s first non-fiction book is out on Wednesday March 10th, exclusively as a paperback and Kindle book through Amazon. You can follow Tim’s adventures trying to get fit through his 5th decade. Featuring running, falling, biking, crashing, broken ribs, cake and bears.
You can pre-order the ebook now, with the paperback available from March 10th
