Between the Worldcon aftermath and the recent story going up at Apex Magazine, it seems like there’s been a spike in the number of folks walking past this here blog to have a gander (which would be Australian for “have a look” not “have a male goose”). It’s left me all a-fluster, for if I’d known company was coming I would have put on a better shirt before posting today. And possibly some pants. And I would have made sure I was posting from my computer at home, which is shiny and easy to use, rather than the clunky Mac at my parents place.
Nevertheless, make yourselves comfortable and allow me to offer you a hot beverage of your choice.
Okay, so I guess I should make introductions. First up, this blog is maintained by this pair:
The chap at the foreground is Fudge, better known around these parts as the Spokesbear of Doom, who is the taskmaster that keeps me working and sending new fiction out into the world. The chap in the back is me, Peter M. Ball, who does most of the typing by virtue of being the one with opposable thumbs. For various reasons I have much less hair than I did when this photograph was taken, but I still forget to shave roughly as often. For reasons of my dignity, I should not be trusted with a paper bag. This probably explains all that really needs to be explained about the non-writerly parts of my life. The bulk of my writing can be accessed via the bibliography tag, but I should probably mention that I have two books out. Notably, this one:
and this one:
Both are available through Twelfth Planet Press, who are lovely and appreciative folks who would gladly exchange your hard-earned dollars for novellas packed full of hardboiled detectives and evil faeries.
Should the constant checking of webpages and/or the use of RSS feeds not be your thing, I can be found on all the usual social networking sites (twitter, facebook, etc) under the cunning disguise of PeterMBall. The blog is also syndicated over on livejournal. Feel free to drop past the venue of your choice and say hi, for I enjoy chatting to people and the realities of writing means I rarely get the opportunity to do so.
And that’s me. Welcome. Pull up a couch. And should you be inclined to hang around for a bit, feel free to introduce yourself in the comments.
Should you find yourself in the market for a signed copy of Bleed and not be in a position to corner me in my natural habitat, it’s worth noting that Pulp Fiction Bookshop in Brisbane’s Anzac Square Arcade got me to sign a bunch of the stock when I was in there earlier today (which also included a few copies of Horn, should you be looking for one).
