David M Allan did an MA in Creative Writing at Middlesex University. Since then he has had four short stories published online.
Upholding the reputation for eccentricity of writers, David lives on a houseboat on the Thames.
His website is davidmallan.com
Susan Bartholomew began by writing short stories. Like every writer, she wanted these to be read by as many people as possible. Looking for a quick and easy way to achieve this, she started the website faceinterface. She started to write at greater length, creating stories that were too long to be called short stories, but still too short to be published as novels. Three of these stories, Codename Chameleon, Vine Manor and The Emerald Cross, can be read on faceinterface. Meat Machines, a sequel to Codename Chameleon, was Susan's first venure into interactive content and is also on faceinterface. This story features four codebreaking puzzles.
Susan went on to write a fantasy trilogy, Swords of Elyx. The three books are The Lake of Destiny, The World Below and Taliesin's Heir. They are available from the Algana Publishing online shop.
Susan regularly appears at science fiction and fantasy conventions. She has spoken on panels and given readings from her novels. You might also catch her reading one or two of her poems at an open mic session. For the latest news and events, please see Susan's events page on faceinterface.
Susan also writes text adventure games with Twine. Play them on her page at itch.io.
Jack Calverley says, "I like making things. I enjoy the crafting process whether virtual goods like software (the day job) or, preferably, a make-believe world made from words."
He also believes in cross-over between mediums since he has been heard reading for StarShipSofa and has been seen at exhibitions trying to flog his Photoshop'd holiday snaps.
His home page is on www.jackcalverley.com.
A Party Somewhere in Soho.
"I was Creative Director on a global beauty brand," she explains. "I floated on the choppy waters of big business 'til my Dior lilo sprang a leak." She laughs into her champagne.
You want to hear if she came close to drowning. She doesn't elaborate.
So instead you blurt out what you really want to know. What every woman needs to know.
"So, which face cream really works?"
"Ahhh," she says grinning at the question like an old friend, "That's what made me decide to write my first book."
She smiles to herself and rolls the stem of the flute between her thumb and index finger. The glass pirouettes.
"I kept emails. Made notes. Sat through dull meetings plotting what I like to call a glam-who-dunnit-exposé. I've seen celebrities in their underwear. Without their agents. Or their smiles. I know the shortcuts. The tricks of the trade. I don't want to preach, though," she adds hastily. "It's sort of... The Devil Wears Prada meets a female Sherlock Holmes."
"You're using the novel to reveal what goes on behind the scenes?"
"Exactly. I feel I have a duty."
To whom, you wonder.
She answers your thought.
"I owe it to women. Girls. People should know what goes on in the name of vanity. Then they can judge whether to believe the retouching."
She drains her glass and turns to leave.
Damn. Now I want to read what she's written. I want to visit Planet Beauty. I'm intrigued.
"What's your name?"
She smiles. "Michaela Day."